Return of the Opera
by Darkaus
Summary: takes place 3 years after playbook ends. The coninued lives of all involved. If you had the chance... to live again, would you take it? is it worth the pain?
1. Default Chapter

**_ Prologue_**  
  
The rain came down in torrents outside the Paris Opera house, and I shivered with the cold. In front of me the building loomed, imposing and Foreboding. I know all to well what lurks in its dark depths. In addition, as I drew nearer to the familiar structure a deep feeling of dread overcame me. My flying steps shattered the puddles on the marble steps, those same steps we had fled over so long ago... Those who were passing by on the street stopped to stare, why would anyone go to the opera house after public visiting hours?  
Inside the opera house was dark, an occasional sound could now and then be heard from the practices that went on in the back rooms, but my destination, the stage, was deserted. I, the Viscount-de-Changny, sat down in box five. Memories running over me like waves over a person drowning. Christine seemed to dance down on the stage, her brown-golden hair floating around her... she beckoned to me, and then she vanished into the recedes of my mind. I feel tears running down my face, she seemed so near...  
I did not see the two golden eyes watching me from the shadows. Nor did I hear the sharp intake of breath. Three years...three years since we had fled the opera, eighteen months since she had died in childbirth, seven months since the death of the child... "Three years"  
I turned to face the eyes, those eyes that still haunted my dreams, lion's eyes; eyes that stared strait threw flesh and bone into my soul. The eyes of the phantom of the opera. "You have taken great risk returning to my kingdom." The voice seemed unable to be bound to the figure from whom it came, echoing around the empty theater like thunder although he had only whispered it. I rose from my seat and approached the specter. Erik was thinner than I had remembered him to be, his hair lay raggedly on him, everything about him screamed at me of neglect and despair. Only his eyes, his haunting, golden eyes, seemed to hold a speck of life in them.  
"I no longer fear you opera ghost, you ceased to horrify me long ago. I hear you are not even spoken of about the opera house anymore, why?" Erik's eyes narrowed, his deformed lips pressed together in a snarl. "I have, retired." He turned his back to me to leave, and then paused. "How is madam Diae?" I sighed,  
"She's dead."


	2. chapter one

**Authors note: This is one of my older works, and in desperate need of revision. I am revising it, (go figure) and so there may be inconsistencies with the style of writing whileI update. I own nothing, and I am making nothing from this. That is all.  
Wait, not quite.  
Just below this note is "Erik's Perspective." This means that the point of view is primarily Eriks at this point, though it will focus on others as well. The point of view will change from chapter to chapter depending on the material. Okay! That's it! Enjoy. **

**  
Erik's Perspective:**

Down, down, and down again. Past the giant boiler rooms, the dressing chambers, the stables and the rat catcher. Further still, threw the ancient catacomb that served as the foundation of the opera house itself. Down into hell in all its grotesque glory, to my realm, the devils realm. Into the darkness...  
My mind and soul stranded in overpowering turmoil, the viscount's words ringing in my ears. Oh I wished vainly with all my being that I had not returned to the upper world, to that empty stage. That stage forever rang with the tattered remains of my Don Juan Triumphant, It had detoured me in the past, should have given me pause tonight. I should have remained in the safety of the shadows...

"Dead... She's dead..." I let the door hang open behind me, closing it required too much effort. So did standing, and I slowly slid back against the wall of my tomb, my form contorted, shivering. Sobbing too, unless it was raining. How could I feel this loss, through my numbness? I was forced to remove my mask to keep from choking on my tears. One would think that over time I would have become accustomed to pain, but how could I? How, when for the past three years the thought that she was happy was all that kept me living? All that kept me living... "...What is there to live for?.."

I heard the clock chime; the hands were set at twelve. It was now midnight, the witching hour, my hour. Slowly, shakily, I rose to my feet and walked across the room to my organ. "...Christine..." My hands aimlessly wandered over the keys. Somehow I had known I was not in the mood for music. My sense of humor is tragic, and ironically strikes me at the worst of moments. I cloak myself with it as best I can. I will be numb, or I will die. There is no medium, there has not been anything else for three years. Three years... How long, how long had he said she had lived? Was the pain terrible? Had she suffered? Please no...

Let it have been gentle, the blood loss taking her languidly, sleepily as she rested happy and warm. Let it have been gentle... I turned my head toward the table where my dinner sat untouched, the sight turned my stomach.  
As she usually did, Meg had brought it at precisely six this evening and had departed. A bad habit to support, she had been doing this with all my meals for two years now, more or less. It began when she discovered me in a passage where I had expected relief. There I had collapsed from weakness, ready to die after several weeks of almost pure starvation. Unintentional, of course.

I had simply forgotten that food was required, it happens to the best of men...  
She seemed to have pitied me in some way, much as I loath that sentiment, for she had fetched her mother and the two of them had helped me back here. I had lost the strength to fight them and so both decided to care for me until I regained my feet.

It did not take long for Giry to realize I had, unintentionally, allowed that meeting to happen. Since that time Meg has frequented my dungeon, bringing food and news when she believes I am in the mood to listen. More often then not I could care less about what goes on in the world, and the majority of the food I throw away...  
I lean against the organ. The days events have taken their toll on my diminished strength. There is a noise, I jerk around to face it, cursing the open door. Meg stands timidly in the threshold, her eyes grow wide with terror; I have not replaced my mask. To her credit she stands her ground while shame takes me, though she looks flighty and she may faint.

"Monsieur... I.. I only wanted to tell you, the yearly auditions are tomorrow!"

Her courage deserted her and she swiftly quit my presence. What does it matter if the auditions are tomorrow? Does she not know the sun is dead? I wonder that the world is still spinning. Tomorrow... wait, tommorow? That cannot be right. I turned to the calendar and mentally berated myself for having fallen behind. "Oh for the love of god." A low growl, I have little love for him, and it is decidedly mutual. "I've completely skipped a month!" A sigh escapes me. I have never missed the yearly auditions, and I do not intend to start now. I must find that calm I have held for so long, If I am to find something, anything else to live for. The Opera. I will live for the Opera, for they are dead without me. My grief... will pass... must pass... I am not the weak man she fled from, I am not the broken beast in need of 'pity' or a kind word.

Her last words to me had broken something inside me, forcing me to heal anew.

She had saved us both from my growing madness. It was the painful truth. I had wrestled with that thought for years, for I never doubted my failing sanity, but never thought I would hurt her even if all sense abandoned me. She had seen the truth that my adoration blinded me to. I would have killed her for love, smothered the life from her in the dark. She needed light, and scenery, she was still young...

Now she was gone, and I numb, and alive. There is a twisted humor to life. I would live for the theater, I would keep that madness at bay. She would want that, I think... She would want me to live without her.

...Besides that, knowing my managers we are all doomed if I do not go to weed out the talent from the bravado. And besides, it is always entertaining to see the fresh meat; if you understand the expression.  
I turned back to the cold meal and quieted my stomachs protests, I'd eaten worse, far worse. I would need the strength for tomorrow. I take my seat, somewhat amused to see that Meg considers breakfast rolls dinner food, and that she had somehow burned them. "It's very fortunate that one doesn't have to cook well to dance ballet..."

I hear chuckling from behind me and take a steadying breath, my eyes narrow at the thought that I have been snuck up upon twice in one evening. With annoyance and an aggravated sigh I turn just enough to catch him in the corner of my sight. Daroga. He smiled at me. I did not return the gesture. "I thought you returned to Persia to handle several private affairs?"

Daroga raised an eyebrow, "That was a month ago." Once again I glared daggers at my calendar. "I was wondering if you would be attending the company auditions, they are tomorrow you know." His expression grew concerned; he had noted my quiet tone, my low shoulders, the absence of my mask. This last discovery startled him, all ease left him. He knew my mood now. Few things could so distract me from my self loathing that I would remove that covering."I had heard you were not well."

I attempted a laugh, "You worry too much my friend." I moved to reclaim the cursed thing, replaced it over my shame, adjust my calendar. "Of course I will be attending." My mood grew darker. "Is there something wrong with this?"

Daroga did not answer me at first. His eyes struggled to avoid mine. "Are you sure that this is wise?'" I turned to him, my sarcastic expression seemed to unnerve him."I am only concerned about you..."

He could tell that I no longer wished to speak. "I am always here if you need me Erik, do not forget that."

* * *

The morning came without a warning, and I woke to find Madam Giry hovering over me. She had become too comfortable with me these last two years, but as much as that though plagued me, I had taken no action to stop it. 

"The day has begun O.G. Will you be attending the auditions?"

I nodded and reached for my cloak. Madam Giry turned and left me to prepare myself. The cloak secured, I donned my felt hat and opera gloves, buttoning down my shirt as I reached for my boots. Lastly, I slid a dagger into the sheath on my belt and taking the Punjab lasso, placed it within the folds of my cape. Now, armed and dressed, I left my home and ascended into the light.

No one saw my shadowy figure pass by them, no one noticed the masked man climbing toward the surface. I made my way un-noted to the grand foyer and past the stage. There were many people running about, it was a simple task to blend with the crowd. Even for one who stood out as much as I could.

"...And did you hear there is an opening on the choir?"

"I wish we had remembered to bring my other shoes..."

"I want to see the ghost!"

It seemed the whole world was present, squeezed into the halls, all talking and moving... the shear wave of humanity moving and swaying at once could have made the most experienced sailor nauseous. It was working on myself.  
A little ahead of where I stood I could see the crowd migrating toward the oak doors that held off the ballroom. _So, that's where those fools are holding the auditions... _Quietly I slipped inside.

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Andre looked over at his partner Firmin and stifled a yawn. This was the thirteenth flute player they had been forced to endure. Worse than this, just like the twelve that had preceeded her, she was awful... Firmin nudged Andre and made a sharp gesture. "If I never hear another flute player as long as I live it will be to soon!"

Andre laughed and patted the exasperated man on the shoulder. "I understand, I know; don't worry my friend. This can't last forever."

Meg Giry and her mother also watched the auditions with bored expressions.

Seemingly deflated, the jumpy flutist retreated behind the curtain of the ricochet stage that had been set up that morning. Behind the curtains, (which were actually window shades,) different members of the choir attempted to encourage the hysteric new actresses and actors. The individuals in question attempted to practice trills, breath technique, and walking without falling over. Others pushed the ones who had yet to audition onto the stage

Near the back of the group two young dreamers sat and spoke in quiet voices, their eyes dancing with excitement and nerves. One was Peter Grey. At age twenty-three he was older than his companion, and slightly calmer. The other... she is his sister Diana. She is also turning twenty-one in a months time, giving Peter just enough of an age gap between them to name himself head of their family. Both siblings wanted to be a part of the Opera Populaire, but in vastly different ways. Where Peter wanted to work with the sets and props, Diana wanted to dance.

"Peter Grey?"

Peter turned to the stagehand. "Yes?"

"The management will see you now." The stagehand departed.

Peter rose to follow but Diana grabbed her brothers hand, her eyes were wide and hands shook though she was smiling. He smiled back to her, "You'll do just fine Diana, remember to breath." With a reassuring squeeze he disappeared around the shades to speak with the management.

Erik, who had been moving about near the back, noted absently when Peter emerged. He weighed the man, appraising him with cold, golden eyes. He focused, cast his voice softly to Madam Giry. Quietly he whispered in her ear. She nodded and spoke to the managers, suggesting that they hire the man. Satisfied, Erik retreated back to the shadows.

"Next!"

A young woman appeared from behind the drapes. Erik studied her as well, surprised at how similar she was in appearance to the young man. _Siblings, perhaps..? Cousins in the least._ She had her head down, but her face was calm. Her small, pert mouth took on a determined tightness.

"And what is your name, mademoiselle? For what are you auditioning?" The orchestral conductor had a loud, clear voice, which was an asset at any time and seemed to be serving him well today. Beside him a few members of the pit sat at the ready to provide music for the breaks throughout the day. And accompaniment for any vocal performances, of course.

The woman looked up, allowing the audience to see a flash of green in her hazel eyes. "Diana Grey." Nervously she pushed away a strand of her dark hair, scanning the audience. "I would like to dance, monsieur."

"Have you already spoken to the ballet mistress, mademoiselle Grey?"

She nodded, causing the braid she had put her hair into to bob. "Yes monsieur, I have. I was told that I must vocally audition as well, and Madam Giry directed me here for that." Her voice was soft, probably from nerves, but it was gentle on the ears. Erik weighed her odds. If she was here, it was indication that Giry found her dancing bearable. That made the vocal audition almost a formality. If her voice was as pleasant on the ear when singing as it was speaking, her odds were solidly good. Though the Opera Populaire prized itself on perfection, the dancers were not all members of the chorus, and so were not demanded the same vocal pristine as their dual companions.

"Your range, mademoiselle?"

"Second soprano, monsieur ."

The conductor made a note in a small booklet, "And so you will be singing for us today?"

"I will be singing the Latin Reprise in act three, second soprano chorus, from the opera Don Juan Triumphant."

Several people in the room began to whisper, their voices low and frightened. Meg covered her mouth, eyes wide. She knew that the composer was in attendance, and she knew that his mood, if the previous night was any indication, was not a good one. The atmosphere in the room riveted with unease, and the conductor cleared his throat loudly, cueing that the whispering die down into an eerie silence.

"...Please begin, mademoiselle."

And so she did.

Erik's eyes narrowed as her soft soprano tone caressed his work, his reprise. _She is taking it too slowly, too softly..._ His hands clenched. _Her tone is good, breath support... decent, but she has misunderstood the mood. It is mournful, but not a lament! There should be a hint of irritation there, but there is nothing!_ It had been three years since he had heard these notes, three years since the chorus had practiced them. They had never reached the stage, and this was not the way the world was meant to hear them... _My music... who has published my music? How did she get her hands on that music?_

The audience seemed to have relaxed, and Grey's confidence seemed to grow from the change of energy. Now there was an edge, now there was guile and guilt.

"Now, it is sufficient." His voice was in her ear, in the conductors ear, and the words were out of his mouth before he knew in full what he had done. The conductor jerked about to see who had spoken to him, the musicians abruptly ceased to play. Diana Grey jerked as well, looking about.

With a Snarl the Ghost vanished from the scene, but not before the conductor caught him in a glance. The man gave a wheeze of shock, as if the air had been knocked out of him.

"Ph...phantom!"

That word was all the audience needed to turn an eerie moment into a frightful one. They reacted with jumping from their seats, looking sharply about, fear etched in every face. Diana too searched the Audience in a stunned silence.

"That voice... that beautiful voice..." Her hands were suddenly en-folded in another's as her brother removed her from the stage.

* * *

Diana and her brother were hired and welcomed into the theater, seemingly with open arms. Yet behind their backs lay a train of fear as wide as the theater itself. 

Madam Giry approached Diana with the patience of one who has dealt with young performers for years. Both introduced themselves for the second time, and Giry led Diana away to show her the washrooms, dressing rooms, and where the dancers slept.

"This will be your dressing room, where you prepare with the troupe before, during, and after practices. I will be easy to find at these times should you need anything." They left the backstage area and moved further in, past a costume closet and several prop storages, as well as a large expanse where backdrops were in the process of being painted and strung. They turned again, and up a group of staircases. Diana hesitated, her hand reached out to brush a discolored stone on the outside of the railing.

"There was a fire several years back."Madam Giry looked over her shoulder, prepared when Diana turned to her with wide eyes at the unasked questions answer. "You are not the first to be curious... Much of this wing was redone, at no small expense." She turned and continued to the bedrooms, motioning to a cot near the south wall with a small bed table and warm woolen blankets. "This is where you will sleep. Trust is important among the girls, if you have anything of value that you feel will not be safe, give it to me at the first available time. I will place it in safekeeping for you." Giry motioned to the bed beside Diana's. "That cot belongs to Kirsty, she is several years your senior in the opera, has been with us since she was a little girl. Try to get along with her, as you and she will share some basic amenities while you are here."

Diana nodded, tucking the information away for safekeeping. "I have nothing I need confiscated."

Giry nodded. "That is always for the best. I expect respectful behavior on the part of all my girls, they will treat you properly, you will do the same. You will not behave in a manner that is inappropriate in the eyes of your peers, and you will not cause trouble with the stagehands or your fellow performers, is that clear?"

Diana nodded. "Yed madam."

Giry turned to go, paused. "Your brother, he is a stagehand now, yes?" Diana nodded again. "I am sure that is some comfort, to have family here. He seems good to you. Understand that not all men in this building will be, there are some I personally dislike. If you are... bothered, by any man in the theater, I urge you to tell me." Giry sighed. "One last word, this one is also of caution. Every opera has its stories and superstitions. This opera has an active legend. Beware the Phantom of the Opera." Without another word she was gone.

Diana looked after her a few moments, silently thinking. Then excitedly she looked around her new home.

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Peter was as jumpy as a puppy as the older stagehands showed him the ropes of the job. "These ropes tie off sandbags, and those sandbags are heavy, so be sure you know who, or what, is below you before you let one drop. These particular sandbags are used to hold up heavy props. A makeshift bridge, last season, sometimes little buildings, can be anything really. All depends on whats going on below."

"So this is what its like to work at the opera," Peter looked over the complex network of ropes, levers and cranks. "I wonder how my Diana is doing..."

The stagehand behind him raised an eyebrow, "Diana? You have a girl?"

Peter laughed, shook his head, "She's my sister, and very talented. I think she could have a great future in store for her."

The stagehand nodded, a smile on his face. "She may do well, this place... that stage, a good show for the truly talented. Course it's all up to the ghost in the end." Other stagehands gathered around to listen. Peter's stunned expression caught everyone's attention. "Don't tell me you haven't herd of the ghost?"

Peter shook his head in confusion. "What ghost?"

The smiling stagehand grew as cold as stone, his eyes picked up a nervous twinkle. "The ghost is one of the quirks of this theater. You need to know every man who works these ropes, for one night you may encounter a stranger up here. If you do, you'll know not to bother 'im. He's a man who prowls the theater, owns box five on the grand tier. His eyes are like fire, and they burn your soul. He has the reaper's face." The others all nodded in agreement. "When the ghosts orders are ignored, strange things happen."

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Before the week was out, Diana and Peter had gained the respect of the opera house. She was honest and hard working, he was honest and hard working. Good things seemed to happen when they were about, good things being the absence of bad things, that is. Both had cheery dispositions besides, and so it was pleasant to have them near. "It's the gift of the ghost," was whispered when they were not about. And perhaps... it was. Andre and Firmin were given nothing to gripe about, the threat of the phantom that had loomed over their heads since the years auditions seemed to fade with time.

"Diana, Diana, Wake up!"

Diana rolled over and whapped Kirsty, her newly acquired, surprisingly close friend, in the face with a pillow. They had taken to each other almost instantly, sharing many of the same interests. It didn't matter that most of those interests involved dancing, that was, after all, why they were here. "Kirsty, what is it...Isn't it Sunday? Let me sleep..." Kirsty ignored her friends plea and sat on the end of the bed.

"Fine, if that's how you want it. But Madam Giry is the one who sent me, so I suggest you get up!" For her efforts, Kirsty received an annoyed moan and a threatening wave of the pillow. "Alright! If your going to be so grumpy I'll tell her you didn't want to see her."

Diana sat up wit a groan and fumbled around for her hairbrush. "I'm up Kirsty, I'm up..."

* * *

Madam Giry paced the stage as she waited for Diana and Kirsty to arrive. She glanced with agitation at the time and scowled, they were very late. It was her Sunday as well, and she had no great desire to spend it waiting on them. 

Finally, the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the still air... However it soon became apparent to the Ballet mistress that she was not hearing the footsteps of either of the girls. The steps were too evenly paced, to heavy. They were distinctly masculine. And then, as he rounded the corner, she saw his eyes. Piercing gold, eyes that glared from the heart of the shadows.

"...Madam, I believe we have certain matters that we must address."

Giry shuddered, there was an agitation in that voice that she had not heard in some time. Recently the ghosts behavior had worried her. Months of silence had separated them, a distance she had not minded. Then Meg's discovery, that long walk through the tunnels... Two years after that of watching him steadily decline. It was not a decline from neglect; she had seen to that, more it was a simple loss of interest in the world itself. The fiery spirit that had held the Opera Populaire by the throat faded into little more than a glowing coal.

He had secluded himself within himself, his voice had lost much of its tone, he spoke less and less. The last year he had spent below the floors, not bothering with the trips above.

Truth be told, she had expected him to wither up and die shortly, like a neglected plant in the dark. His sudden revival disturbed her, she worried what it would mean for the present, and the future. In the present moment, his irritation sent her into an uneasy state.

"O.G. I do not understand what there is that we should discuss. I have followed all your orders and serve you faithfully..."

The ghost seemed to consider this and discard it immediately. He advanced, anger in his step, and she responded by backing away. "We must discuss our present situation, my dear Giry. Your comings and goings out of my sanctuary at all hours that I have foolishly allowed. I am afraid I no longer trust you, as I once did."

Giry backed up until she reached the stages end. "It must cease, it is bad for our strait forward relations. This level of comfort where my person is concerned has made you forgetful. Did you not fail to inform the management of my recent requests? I instructed you to do so, yet it seems that you have gone out of your way to avoid it.

I have some new instructions for you, and I expect them to be carried out to the smallest detail!" The form in the darkness seemed to relax, and pulled back, allowing her to move back into the center stage. The ghosts voice turned gentle. "I wish for you to investigate the girl, mademoiselle Grey, take her under your wings. I desire to know where she acquired that song, and further than this, if you could recover it for me? The child is still young besides, and a motherly influence would do her good." Madam Giry nodded, a trace of confusion in her expression. "Secondly, I want the management informed of those neglected instructions. Thirdly, my salary... it is long overdue."

For the first time in a long time Giry and Erik were face to face, and mentally mind to mind. Giry could not help but feel a mixture of fear and worry run through her. "...It will be as you wish, is there anything else?"

Erik nodded, looked to the grand tier. "My private box, have it returned to me." Both tensed when they heard footsteps in the distance. Erik turned his head back to Giry, "Do not, forget." With a swish of his cape the opera ghost vanished, leaving Giry alone as Diana and Kirsty rushed onto the stage.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"I tell you, it wasn't my fault! It was the ghost again, he startled me as he ran by!"

The other stagehands turned and gave Joseph scornful glances as they raised the backdrop that had crashed to the stage. "I don't care if no one here believes me!" He growled it, shook his fist at them. "I've seen him on the catwalk, and it must be him! He has eyes like hells fire, And a white mask instead of a face!"

Someone snickered, "I think Joseph was getting an eyeful of the chorus girls, instead of paying attention like he's paid to." Several rowdy laughs erupted from the other workers, Peter smiled and picked up a cable.

"Common people, some of us enjoy our pay and have work to do to earn it!"

The other stagehands moved off, leaving Joseph alone. Seizing the opportunity he reached into his coat pocket and removed a flask of old whisky. He regarded it dubiously, sniffed it, as if he could tell by scent if it had somehow gone bad.

"You are aware that accomplishes nothing?" Instantly a cold hand touched his shoulder and Joseph whirled around to face two golden eyes glowing in the dark."Now, apparently your carelessness was the work of... a ghost?" The tone was velvet-tine, but the menace was unmistakable.

Realizing the danger, Joseph backed away, his hands making the sign of the cross in front of him. "No...wa.. wasn't anything but an accident!" The specter smiled, his expression shifted, turned to one of quiet outrage. "Yes...but you blamed me." He advanced, forcing the cowering man back against the ropes. "I will not have the lazy, the stupid, or the liar in my opera... and so I fear... we will have to let you go!" With that snarl the Phantom lunged forward, grabbing the other man by the shoulder, wrenching him about and pushed him from the catwalk.Joseph's scream was caught in his throat as thin, powerful hands held him aloft by his neck alone. Legs kicking he struggled, flailed, and attempted to pry away the fingers... His head was twisted savagely, and with a loud snap...

He was dead before he hit the stage.

Erik walked slowly across the rafters, his grace gone. He seemed suddenly old as he paused to pant, resting his weight on a rope. In hindsight, he wondered, why that man had to die. At the moment he had felt no doubt, it was a necessary evil. He would not tolerate such vermin on his ground, he had to restore the full glory of his Opera... and yet, now, with the deed done, a strange dread stoll over him. A necessary evil, he had told himself that before. It had been a necessary evil in the little Sultans court. I was insane then, that was the only way to stomach such, necessary evil. Have I gone mad again..? He snarled, his grip on the rope turned cruel. No, not mad, I am not Mad! I am... disturbed. He quieted. I am disturbed, and I am a killer. I am grieving... and so I over-reacted. I am not mad... but I will be if I cannot find control. I must have control of myself.

It will not be easy with my temper... But I have stood against greater monsters. I can manage, myself... Hearing a noise behind him Erik turned his head, narrowed his eyes, and looked strait into the stunned face of Peter Grey.

"My god... your all take this ghost story seriously, don't you?" Peter had obviously not yet seen what rested below them, and he laughed under his breath as he regarded the apparition before him. "I should have been expecting something like this, I'm sure you've done this to every new crew member. I'm not frightened."

Erik braced, stood his full height and looked down his nose at Peter, a deathly stillness filled the air. Slowly, the ghost smiled. "We are people of the arts, superstition... is an important part of our lives."

Peter chuckled. "So I see. I will admit you almost had me. Are there any other superstitions I should expect to encounter? And If I do, any specific way to safeguard myself against them?"

The smile fell from the Phantoms lips. "I have one to suggest. One day, this may serve you well... In this building, if you are ever in doubt of your safety, keep your hand," He demonstrated. "At the level of your eyes." And then there was laughter. Erik's cold laughter as he passed Peter and vanished into the shadows.

Below them both, from the box just off of the stage, the Persian cursed under his breath._ Erik has broken his promise..._

When last they had spoken, there had been nothing about Erik that had hinted at murder being on his mind. Perhaps then this had been done on a mad whim? That was troubling. The thought of what must have run through the stagehands mind in those final moments... a shudder of unease ran up Daroga's spine.

From behind he heard a low moan, and whirled about to see Madam Giry gazing with some indescribable emotion at the sprawled corpse. "Why did this happen..? Poor Joseph... He was a good man... a pig, and a fool, but a good man!"

The Persian sighed, shook his head in sudden anger. "Why must anyone die? Forgive me madam, but I try not to pity the dead when I must still pity the living!"

Giry glared at him, abashed by his outburst. Her eyes regarded him with a steely indifference. "Forgive me for being human monsieur, I will not trouble you further with my pathetic emotions!"

Daroga could only watch stunned as she hurried off to get help. A pang of regret coursed through him; he had not meant to be so sharp... perhaps if he hurried he could still catch her. With a calming breath he turned and sprinted towards the office.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

* * *

**Erik's Perspective:**

Mentally I was still laughing as I walked alone on the icy stones, hidden safely in my passage ways.

That boy, that amusing fool... I would remember that encounter for some time. To think, that I was a member of the cast pulled into a conspiracy against the newly employed? What had inspired that madness? "Though truly, I am becoming a monster, leading him on in that manner..." I laugh again, I cannot help it. It feels good, I have missed this sensation... With a chuckle that fades into a sigh I turned to return home... when a strange sound comes floating down the tunnel towards me.

Curious, I silently followed the sound until I arrived at a dressing room that I had never considered visiting before. This room in question was the leading lady's private dressing chamber. La Carlotta, had long since returned to Spain... Thank God. I could only assume they had given the use of the room to someone else, perhaps several someone's. The room was large when I designed it, and large when it was built, for I built it. It seemed safe to assume it was still so.  
Peering through a giant mirror I was greeted by the sight of Diana Grey. She sat on a stool, alone, brushing her hair and reading notes on choir paper. So she has made the choir as well. I had seen more than enough, Giry would manage the matter of the music, the girl and I had no further business.

I turned to go, but was forced to halt. That sound, the strange tone that had first grabbed my attention had resumed. And it was to my back. I turned, pressed my ear to the mirror. There could be no question, it was coming from her. A second Soprano she had said? Yes, I could hear that now. She favored the lower notes, almost into the alto range. It was a honeyed tone, soothing, soft, and full. I closed my eyes, cut free my other senses and listened. She was poorly trained, perhaps someone had offered her coaching in their spare time. She had enthusiasm, and she was using that subconsciously to cover her lack of technique. That, I knew too well, would land her swiftly into trouble.

Her breath control was strong, at least. I had seen that during the audition. How strange, that she had felt the music in the manner she had, without a true teacher. Who had governed her practice? She could not have done it herself, that was poor judgment to the excess. Who had recommended the piece to her?

How had they acquired it?

Ah, I had come full circle. I opened my eyes, rested my weight against the stones. This was interesting... and far, far too familiar. Talented, untrained, musically skilled and eager without guidance. Young, aspiring and foolish. Yes, I knew this story all too well.

She would need lessons to hold her place on the choir, for they would not have the time to instruct her on such basic failings. The right teacher could take her, mould that throat, and in the end play it like a violin. She would sing like a lark, but I would not hear it. No, I would have nothing to do with this any further. Let some other specter make her tone perfect, my pupil was dead. She would never sing again. " Christine..."

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Diana looked up from the pages, her brow furrowed with confusion. "That voice... who are you? Why are you here?" I gave her no answer, embarrassed and irritated that she had heard me. I did gain some amusement as she searched the room inch by inch, brandishing a candleholder as her weapon of protection. Finally, she gave up.

"It must have been my imagination... but he sounded so close to me..." She sank down onto the bench with a nervous laugh, "This building does make one hear things... " Her eyes focused on the mirror. I could not meet those innocent eyes, the entire situation had crept under my skin, and it was eerie in that crevasse behind the mirror as I struggled with the ghosts of my past. It almost seemed that she knew I was there for she rose, moved to the mirror and lay her forehead against the cool glass. "Stop it Diana, stop letting your imagination run away without you." Her tone was self accusing. "You need to focus now, learn that music..." Her breath fogged the glass below her eyes. "Learn the music, make a living, make them proud... and forget that voice."

Make them proud? I wished her the best, for where making a living was concerned she had not picked the wisest of professions. Dancers were used up on a routine basis in the opera. They wear out from the years of strenuous dance, the graceful motions, the tours chaînés déboulés, the elegant Entrechat, and all those awe inspiring jumps of grace. It ruined them all in the end, and most left us unsure of their futures. If they could not secure a post where they might teach the next ballet generation... Making a living was not a goal that inspired one to dance professional ballet.

I did agree with her last point, she needed to forget the unseen mans voice.  
She heard his footsteps before I did, she pulled away from the glass, turned toward the door. "What on earth..?"

"Diana! Where are you?" Peter Grey burst into the room, slamming the door back into the wood. His face was pale, his shoulders trembling.

"I'm right here Peter, What is it? Are you alright?"

Unseen, I listened silently as Peter and Diana spoke in hushed voices. Peter told her of the murder on the catwalk, he called it a "terrible accident," and explained that he had worried for her safety with such things happening. The clock had reached the seventh hour before he finished. For reasons unknown to me, I had remained throughout.

Diana shuddered when her brother stopped talking, sympathetic tears ran from her eyes. "I'm so sorry Peter...It sounds as if you liked him well. Pore Joseph, what a frightful way to die... Oh Peter..." She buried her head in his shoulder.

Worriedly Peter tried to comfort her, not wanting her upset for his sake. "There was nothing you could have done Diana, don't cry, don't cry..." For a while the two remained motionless, save Diana's hand, which held her brother to her. When she looked up again she wore a supportive smile, which almost hid her wet eyes.

"Have you told the managers?" Peter nodded, an angry sigh escaping from him.

"Yes I told them, they contacted the police. That's all anyone could do now. But the people here Diana..." Peter shook his head, looking bothered. "Anyone could see it was an accident, he fell from the catwalk. His whiskey was not far from him. With any luck, he was asleep when he fell. But these theater people... they seem to think it was no accident at all. They claim their ghost did it. Well I could tell them he didn't, their "ghost" was speaking to me surely just before he..." Peter paused, his eyes narrowed, then widened. "Oh I feel the fool..."

Diana sensed the change in him, "Peter? What is it?"

Peter shuddered, "We spoke right above him, that man and I... and neither one of us knew he was dead below us... That... Gods what a day." Peter pulled away from her, rested his head in his hand. "The crew played a joke on me today, someone dressed up at the Opera Ghost, and he startled me on the catwalk. Then we spoke, and went our separate ways, none the wiser to what was below our feet. I wonder is he knows about this yet... He must feel as much the fool as I."

Diana rose from her seat and wrapped around his back."I'm glad that you weren't harmed. It sounds like the catwalk is a dangerous place to work. Be careful when you go up there Peter...you're the only family I have."

Peter sighed, "I'm always careful, you worry to much about me. I'm the elder sibling, just let me worry about you."

I could only watch this scene with disbelief. How blissfully ignorant they both were! How long could that last? How had it lasted to this point, for that matter? The world outside these walls was empty, cold, and cruel. It spared none its spurs save the nobility who could purchase themselves ways about inconvenience. These two were not of such blood, if they were they had no business here. Long ago had I lost faith in humanity's inherent goodness. No, it was original sin upon all, compounded by life's lessons. I could understand the sister remaining so gentle, had the brother become wise, and likewise in the opposite manner. But both? And a part of me was almost repulsed by this; this bordered on foolishness.

I have no patience for fools.

"The managers have chosen not to cancel tonights practice, but I'm sure that everyone is uneasy, I wouldn't be surprised if no one attended. You could probably go strait to your room without questions. I would understand if you did not feel like singing..."

I did not want to hear any more. Listening to them together was uncomfortable in the gentlest of terms. It hurt.

With a swish of his cloak the Phantom disappeared down the passage.

* * *

Although I had not been physically harmed, I felt the deep pains of loneliness in every inch of my being. Love... it is a gift that is taken for granted by they to whom it is familiar. The love of those who are siblings, the love of the parent, the loves of lovers, the love of the married... all these are undervalued in the mortal heart. All these exist for all mankind, and they in turn exercise them at their leasure. Yet I am condemned to live unknown to love, save brief, precious flickers that I clutch in my tattered heart with every breath this body takes. Tonight, that heart is heavy. I return to the tomb, uncaring of discovery. They will know me soon regardless. Workers flee my presence as my shadow sweeps over them. Their screams of phantom fade into the passageways behind me until I can no longer hear them. One sound does remain, my accompaniment on this silent walk. The soft sound of empty tears hitting the stone floor. 

I had been so numb for so long... and what a blessing it had been. I had renounced laughter yes, but also tears. I had renounced these doubts and desires, these confusions and longings. I was healing, perhaps. That was as positive an outlook as I could manage. I was raw from these past years, and now the flesh was attempting to mend. It would hurt before it was done, but the relief to follow would compensate for the discomfort. If I could convince myself that I believed such an artistic, idiotic analogy, I would be fine. I was simply healing... feeling again... I would feel because She could not, and If I felt again... Perhaps I would feel her.

When I finally reached my home I entered the abandoned guest room, and remove the black cloth from the mirror below it. I hated mirrors, had hated them for years. Odd perhaps that I had a chamber filled with them, but in my defense, it is a torture chamber. Only one cosmetic mirror had I allowed in my sanctuary, and it had been for her. With trembling hands, I remove my mask... seeking to see what she saw, seeking to understand that last night. I need to understand those last moments... that kiss...

A deformed corpse appears on the polished glass before me. I am for a moment startled, it had been so long. To my surprise I feel... nothing. There is no sorrow or loathing, not even disgust. All emotion I had ever felt over my curse abandoned me in that moment. I looked upon meat and bone, I looked upon skin. I did not look upon my face, I did not Identify with this face. How could that be...? What did this mean..? How were my eyes so very bright? Hadn't the little sultan enjoyed looking into my eyes? I could see why! They were almost delightful for the contrast. I felt strangely giddy, puzzled and giddy. I reached up, placed my palm upon a cheek.

Abruptly all giddiness was gone. I identified with that hand well enough, and this had suddenly become real. I jerked back with a cry, turned my head from that terror. I could not bare it, I could not bare it! How had I lived like this? How had I lived with this? Ah this affliction! Monstrous! Absolutely monstrous! I had seen better faces on dead men! Now I felt fear, a blind panic, an overpowering loathing. I felt weak, I felt sick, it seemed the ground would reach forth and pull me down, I was suddenly to heavy for my legs to hold me... There, the mask! In my hand, here it was, onto that horror, covering my renewed shame.

I only now realized that I had been roaring, screaming and cursing. I am humbled to the pit of my soul. I could not face myself. I had only looked upon that which I had possessed since birth, and I could not face it. How had she held my gaze, my pure Christine? How had she... how had she dared... to kiss that? I stand, look to the mirror again. My eyes gleam out of the eyeholes of the mask, and I am at ease. This countenance I can bare, and so can the rest of the world. No one... no one must ever again see my face.

* * *

"Insane! This is all insane! 

Andre walked across the room to stoke the fire. Raoul sat at a chair near the managers desk, across from him sat the Persian. At the pre-mentioned desk Firmin was busy reading the note which had mysteriously appeared on the table outside the door. Turning to his agitated partner Firmin sighed helplessly.

"I thought it was over, truly Andre I did." Both managers turned towards the Persian with desperate looks. "You are the only one who can help, yes?"

"Do something before he ruins us!" Andre snapped. "Do you have any idea how much we have had to put into this building?" The Persian seemed not to hear him. Andre moaned helplessly and sank into a chair.

"Well? What should be done?" Firmin demanded, bringing his fist down onto the table. Now the Persian looked up, annoyance plainly visible on his face.

"For a start sir you should calm yourself down and cease behaving like a child. He will come and listen in on us if we attract his attention." Firmin seemed about to burst with protests at the Persians insult. However, Raoul motioned him to be silent as the Persian continued. "Secondly, I must suggest that you cancel this evenings rehearsals, even if it should set you back a week." Andre raised his eyes to the sky as if to ask God himself, why me? "...However, I can tell that you intend to do no such thing. So I will go and attempt to speak with him myself."

Raoul leapt to his feet, "I'll come with you."

The Persian could refrain from shooting Raoul a dubious look."With all due respect Viscount, I will be attempting to calm our Phantom down, and the two of you have an obvious tendency to piss each other off."

Firmin snorted, then covered it up by taking out his hankerchief as though it had been a sneeze. All present turned their heads to the door when it opened.

Madam Giry walked silently into the room and looked back at them with cold unrevealing eyes. She walked to the manager's desk and placed another note on its polished surface. With an angry swipe, Andre grabbed the piece of paper before Firmin could so much as reach for it, and began to read it.

My dearest managers,

I have been informed that you do not intend to cancel tonights rehearsal. I do approve, there is no need to inconvenience the entire cast and crew. However, I would suggest that the catwalk about the stage be checked, it is old wood, and I worry that someone might be harmed as they preform their tasks. Another incident so soon would be unfortunate. I do demand that box five is kept safe for me, as I intend to watch the opera when it is opened to the public. In addition, I would suggest that you hire a new stagehand to replace the fatality of earlier today. To finish our business as I am sure you are eager to, I will make this short, I expect that when you have read this note you will not forget to give the envelope containing my salary to Madam Giry.

Your bemused corespondent,  
O.G.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

The room was silent. Firmin shook his head in disbelief, Andre smiled at him sourly.

Raoul seemed puzzled. "Andre, would you read the preceeding note?"

The Persian turned his head to regard the Viscount. The management also seemed puzzled. Andre put the present note back onto the desk, and took up its predecessor . "Is there a reason I am enduring this frustration a second time, Viscount?"

Raoul nodded distantly. "Please, appease my curiosity."

Andre, seeing that he had received the only answer he was to get, huffed under his breath and lifted the note to his eyes.

To My Undoubtably Disturbed Management,

How does one re-establish communication discontinued for three years prior? At a moment such as this one should perhaps have a thought out message, intended no doubt to warmly welcome the other party back into their world of interest. As you however know, there are few with whom I keep in correspondence, and always it is at my directing. Despite that, in sight of the importance of this occasion, I do wish you both prosperity, and good health.

In fact, I can more than wish it, I can guarantee it. Please note this as I am sure you have caught my suggestion.

On to business, there are several matters that demand our attention. As you will hear more of this soon I will be brief upon this page. Do you understand interest? Do you understand how interest accumulates over time? Consider this, and consider that I have and interest rate in place. I do not bluff or jest, your predecessor left behind instruction on this matter. In the past there were times he could not pay his way, and I allowed a respite in our financial communications. When this period of inconvenience was over, I was compensated for my patience.

There is a great deal of compensation that must take place, hopefully soon. For your interest, gentlemen, is growing. I will allow you to preform the equations, as I often feel you lack stimulation in that office. My salary is 20,000 Franks a month, I hold my interest by each uncompensated week completed after it has passed due. It is a reasonable interest, 25 franks by the week. There are 52 weeks in a year.

I hope this matter can be solved shortly.

Your expectant specter,

O.G.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Raoul let out his breath, eyes wider than they had been before. "I was not expecting that I will admit, I was more interested in the tone..."

Andre's smile was so badly strained he looked to be in physical pain. "The interest for the first missed month alone is 3,900 franks. But If he is counting each missed payment, and there are 12 months in a year, and all but one salary is overdue... without counting interest he is due 720,000 franks! And then with the interest..! Gah!"

Firmin nodded his ascent. "We cannot pay!"

Sensing the growing hostility, Madam Giry backed away from the group. She turned swiftly to exit the room.

"Wait madam!" Firmin stepped between her and the door. "I think its time we had a serious talk." He shut and locked the door, laying his back against it.

Giry's eyes widened in fear, she knew they had her trapped. "Monsieur's, let me out!" The managers were unmoved. Desperately she turned to the Viscount, then to Daroga. In a moments desperation she pushed Firmin from his lean and pulled upon the handles, then pounded on the door, her form trembled with brutally suppressed fear.

With a depressed sympathy in his heart the Persian rose from his chair and offered it to her. "Please, take a seat Madam Giry, no one will harm you."

She was reluctant, but she complied with his request. Not for a moment did anyone present consider that she had any fear of them, only that she feared one they could not see. Here, in the room, they could all feel his presence seeping in. "Please...I... I cannot help you, let me leave." In the shadows outside a dark form listened, hearing their every breath. His eyes narrowed, his hand landed on the doorknob.

In answer to Giry's plea the door that had previously been blocking her escape burst open. Seizing her chance Giry sprinted to the door and disappeared through it just as it came slamming shut. Throughout all of this, not a person in the room had managed to stop the inevitable.

"Curse that ghost! How does he do that?" The only answer Andre received, or for that matter needed was the sound of spectral laughter, seemingly from the walls themselves.

* * *

Erik turned his attention to watch Madam Giry run down the hallways to the dressing rooms. Pausing to lean against the nearby wall she looked in his direction and failed to see him. Obviously she was still a good deal shaken from the attempted interrogation incident. Erik advanced, intent on speaking with her. His progress was hindered when Meg came up behind him. She moved to stay with him as he moved out of her way, and whispered to him that she needed to speak with her mother urgently. The Phantom faded into the shadows with a courteous bow and was gone. 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Peter paused, he watched as Meg moved into the shadows and began to speak to them. Perturbed, he was planning to question her, what kind of person speaks to the walls? Then the shadow bowed. As Peter attempted to get a better look the mobile shadow spotted him. Turning its back the phantom vanished into the wall itself. Peter was hesitant to blink for several moments. His eyes had deceived him, that must be the case. How else could such things as he had seen happen? Meg turned and blinked, startled to see him. Then she blushed, looked down... a shy smile on her face. Embarrassed Peter was obliged to smile back.

"You seem bothered Peter, is something wrong? ...Oh, I see. You've seen him now, haven't you." It was not a question, but a statement. Peter caught himself nodding, Meg smiled sympathetically... her eyes showing some concern. "Most see him eventually, forget it, don't think of it. There's nothing you can do."

"What are you talking about? Seen him? Are we thinking of the same person? The Ghost impersonator I met on the catwalk, you were speaking to him, yes? How did he do that? Where is he?""

Meg hesitated, "Impersonator? There is not impersonator. No one would be so foolish..." Suddenly uncomfortable she drew back against the wall behind her.

"What is wrong? Mademoiselle Meg, who is he?!"

Meg shook her head, the look she sent him implored him for silence. "You will understand at your own rate, I must speak with my mother. Good day monsieur." She turned and ran off down the hall. In moments he was alone.

_The dark is swallowing the world I know.  
Below the opera house, where few dare go...  
Within that emptiness, I fear to find...  
The remnants of forgotten pasts I've seen... inside my mind._

_Reach out your hand to me, release your fear.  
I'm always watching you, I'm always here...  
You need no lamp, nor light... for sleep is blind..._

_The Phantom of the Opera awaits... inside your mind._

_Your voice calls out to me, like midnight air  
I can't escape from you... _

_In dreams there is no second place; He wins..._

_I Close my eyes._


	4. Chapter Three

**_Chapter Three_**  
  
So alone I, the Persian, descended into the depths of the opera. My search for Erik was destined to be a difficult one. There are thousands of rooms in the opera house, many of them in Erik's stronghold, the underground. I searched every haunt that came to mind, from the stables to the shores of the lake. Just as I began to think it was hopeless, a thought struck me. With hurried steps I ran threw the passageways to the former dressing room of Christine Diae. He was there, sitting with his back against the wall, his face turned away from me. For a moment he seemed to acknowledge my presence, his form vibrated with his hidden tension.  
I walked in front of him, trying to lock eyes, but when his eyes met mine, I was the one who had to cower at the gaze. "What do you want now daroga, I'm not in the mood." I sighed and sat down beside him, our eyes met and another sigh escaped me. "Come now Erik, let us be civilized and speak without our weapons." I placed my revolver onto the ground, he chuckled at the sight of it. "Did you think that gun would do anything to protect you?" I shrugged my shoulders and smiled. He seemed surprised when I also removed the dagger I kept concealed in my boot.  
"Very well, without weapons." Erik reached into his cloak and I felt my insides turn to ice as he removed the Punjab lasso. However, I was not surprised that he failed to remove the switchblade from his belt. I cleared my throat nervously; I was about to walk right onto very thin ice. "Erik, the stagehand named Joseph..." I was interrupted by a sharp laugh. I gave Erik a disturbed look but this only seemed to spur him on. Finally, when he had calmed down I attempted to speak again. "Erik, about Joseph..." he stopped me with a look. His brow furrowed in thought, then he smiled. "As I recall, I have quite a thing with killing Joseph's, wasn't the last one a stagehand too? I can't remember..."  
I shot him a distraught look and he laughed deep in the back of his craw. Then his eyes took on a somber light. "I think I did the opera house a favor by disposing of that drunk." He looked towards me when he heard me sigh, "Erik the Phantom of the Opera was dead! Why on earth do you want to start this madness all over again?!" I searched his eyes for an answer. Then a terrible thought crossed threw my mind." Does this have anything to do with the new Diva? Does this concern mademoiselle Grey?" His eyes were like hellfire as he rose to his feet, even without his lasso, he was still more than my match in strength. "Erik please, talk to me! We are friends! What does this have to do with her?" His anger faded slightly, a shallow sigh reached my ears and I found myself gently place a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Why must you always meddle in my affairs?" I shook my head in sorrow.  
"Erik, when human lives are at stake it is no longer a private matter! You are human as well, don't forget that. His eyes met mine, an eerie sight in this darkness, they seemed to sharpen as he smiled. "Human... you say that as if it matters for something daroga." In sudden anger he struck the stones with his fists, an anguished cry escaping his imposing form. "When has the fact that I am part of our sad excuse for a species ever mattered for anything!" He turned away from me, everything about his form showing his rage. I moved away as he wheeled around to face me. "Perhaps you're right, that I am wrong to kill. Is this still true when they actually deserve it?! But so help me daroga! I don't care! You know I don't!"  
  
In the quiet midnight hours at the opera house a lone figure could have been spotted on the chandelier, his golden eyes appearing almost spectral in the dark theater. Though there was no one to see his lonely round about the large room, his stealth did not diminish. However, if you had been there to see him, your eyes would have filled with tears. The sorrow he carried with him weighed him down as if it held solid form. This is the Phantom of the Opera, the man, without a chance to really live. What had he done to deserve this life of almost unbroken solitude? He was born. In the dim light, a tear slides down his face, and he is gone.  
  
I run into my dressing room in a state of giddy excitement! Tonight is the performance I have been preparing for since I was hired here! My heart is beating so quickly that I fear if I don't keep moving it will run on without me! As I begin my breathing exercises, a strangely shaped package on my bed catches my eye. Picking it up I immediately recognize my brothers handwriting. The note tied on top tells me to sing well and that this may help. I open the package and laugh as a small kitten looks into my face and mews. "Well you are a very cute kitten! I think I'll call you... Phantom. You're definitely white enough to be a ghost!" Phantom rubbed up against my hand and purred, her sapphire eyes closed contently.  
A knock on my door almost caused me to drop the precious animal. "Come in!" Madam Girdy entered and smiled at me. She had become almost a mother to me since I had arrived, but there always seemed to be something bothering her. She raised an eyebrow at the kitten, "Well, what do we have here?" I smiled at her surprise, "She's a gift from my brother Peter! Isn't she adorable?" Phantom looked at Giry and mewed, the ballet mistress smiled behind her hand. "Alright, she's a cute kitten. What have you named her?" I looked down at Phantom and stroked behind her ear. "Well, she's as white as a ghost, so I named her Phantom!" Girdy drew back with a small gasp, her hand going to her mouth. "That's...well... are you sure that is a smart idea? Perhaps you should reconsider..." She noted my surprise and sighed.  
"Madam Girdy, you know I don't believe in the Phantom of the Opera! That's just a silly story to scare people!" Girdy shook her head and sighed, "Whatever you hear Diana, there is one thing we can all be sure of, and that thing is this. The Phantom of the Opera is as real as you or I. I must go prepare the dancers." She turned to leave, then stopped and handed me a small envelope. "Here, this is for you... good luck tonight!" Without another look she left my room in a rustle of skirts. With curiosity I opened the letter, it was written in red ink...  
  
_To my dear Diva, Mademoiselle Diana Grey,  
  
First of all, I would like to wish you the best of luck in the performance tonight. I have complete faith in your ability to play the role of Cleopatra. Second, I would like to draw your mind back to your audition for the opera several months ago. I was privileged enough to be there and would have liked to have wrote you sooner, but I fear business called me away. You have exquisite taste in music, and you are a natural performer. However, I fear that you have not had a proper voice teacher; you are hiding your true talent! I can help you with this.  
Therefore, after the Opera tonight I would like to meet with you. Please come to the box number five on the grand tier, I will be waiting inside. Hopefully, we can work out a time that is good for you.  
  
With best regards,  
O.G.  
_  
Confused, I put the letter on my table. A mysterious man or woman, who only puts down O.G. as a name, wants to meet with me? Should I go? Part of me trilled with excitement and curiosity at the idea. However, another part of me warned me that this possibly a very dangerous situation... should I risk it? Another knock on my door caused me to almost jump out of my skin, why does no one around here give their name before they knock?! "Who is it?"  
"Diana! It's me Kirsty! Can I come in?" Relieved, I opened the door, and was almost drowned in a downpour of costume! Kirsty giggled and peaked under the mound of cloth. "Performance starts soon, so I thought I would help you out by bringing you your costume. However I never imagined I'd have to show you how to wear it!" She continued to laugh at me as I grabbed her by the ankle and pulled her down. Both of us looked at each other and covered our mouths to keep from snorting with laughter. It turned out that I did need her help to put the stupid thing on, neither of us knew the top from the bottom!  
  
Andrea looked over at Firmin and sighed as his partner lit up a cigar. "You are aware how expensive those things are, aren't you?" Firmin shot Andrea a stunned look, "You know, people tell me I worry too much. I really must introduce them to you some day!" Andrea chuckled lightly and wiped his forehead with a cloth, his partner eagerly scanned the Audience. "This performance is a sellout Andrea! Try to lighten up! For heavens sake live a little!" Both men became silent as the orchestra began the introduction.  
  
The excitement in the air was contagious, behind the curtains the actors and ballet dancers were almost running in place. The air was tainted with the smell of perfume and before performance sweat. Several stagehands move about in the rafters, Peter pauses to wave at Kirsty and his sister. Then he joins the others and prepares to raise the curtains. Those working with props perform the quick last second inspection, the lights dim on the other side of the curtain. And the performance begins!  
  
In the streets outside of the opera house the viscount- de-changny waits with little patience for the Persian to arrive. Both men had agreed to meet here and watch the opera together. Roul was unsure why, but his old acquaintance seemed worried about one of the singers in the production. To his dismay a light shower of rain began to fall. Quickly he dashed into the structures overhanging entrance. The light shower quickly turned into a harsh storm, in the distance a bolt of lightning shot across the sky. Daroga ran up the steps and the two spoke for a moment before disappearing into the building.  
Curiosity rising, Roul turned to Daroga and raised an eyebrow. "Well, who is it that you believe is in so much danger?" The Persian gave Roul an annoyed Look. Silently they slipped into their reserved box. On the stage Cleopatra and Mark Anthony sang of their undying love, their song soared around the theater. "She is the one, her name is Diana Grey. I fear that like Christine, her voice has caught Erik's attention." Roul shook his head in disbelief. "You would think he would know better!" The Persian only sighed and nodded, his heart going out to the young woman on the stage.  
Unseen by all present, a shadowy figure sat in box five and watched the performance. His eyes gleaming golden in the darkness. The very manner in which Diana moved about the stage was enrapturing. Her grace as she fell into Anthony's arms was charming, even the very way she breathed could enthrall. Sighing, the Phantom sank back into his chair and smiled, she was good, very good. With just a little help she could have the world at her feet... The first act ended and the audience applauded enthusiastically. Rising from his seat the operas specter made his way backstage to watch them prepare for the next act.  
Behind the scenes, the performers reapplied makeup and changed or straitened out their costumes. Madam Girdy sensed that the ghost was at hand, her eyes roamed over the crowded stage. "Please O.G. do not ruin this performance! We all worked so hard on this one, and it's our first night..."A cold hand descended onto her shoulder. Whirling around the confused face of Peter Gray greeted her. Worry lurked in the depths of his emerald eyes. "Madam, is something amiss? You seem frightened." Silently Girdy thanked God that courteous young men still existed. "I thank you for your concern, but I am fine monsieur. Your sister is singing well enough to call the angels themselves to our performance." Peter's face lit up with pride, compliments from the ballet mistress were rare and to be treasured. "She gets it from our mother, those two used to love to sing together..." Girdy nodded, secretly wondering what had been the fate of the Grey's parents. Several other stagehands gestured wildly for Peter to hurry to his place. With a smile, the stagehand excused himself, and ran to join them.  
  
The second act began with a flourish, and the audience was respectful of the obvious effort the actors had made. Diana continued to charm the audience, but she could not shake the feeling that they were waiting for something... When the time came for her to take the serpent in her hand, she looked into the eyes of the actor giving it to her and gasped. Those eyes were eyes that she had never seen before!! As quickly as this happened, the figure blended back into the row of dancers and vanished.  
The performance was a success worthy of the start of the season, Diana had to fight her way threw the cast to her dressing room. Once inside she collapsed on the bed. Her mind racing to find explanations for the last minute switch, but logic failed her. Phantom mewed and leapt onto her lap, begging to be fed. "One moment, one moment, I'll fix you something... you're a cat, so you eat Fish, milk, mice... oh dear..." Diana looked at the cat. "I'm afraid I'm fresh out of milk, I don't like fish, and I have a feeling that I don't have mice either. So I guess I'll just have to go out and get you some." She laughed as the cat chased her fingers over the desktop. Turning to change her clothes Diana once again caught sight of the note; its message ran threw her mind once more.  
  
Roul glanced at the Persian as they rose to leave their seats, the performance had not had a single hitch. It seemed that Daroga's worry was all for nothing, a smile crept over his face. In all the time he had known Daroga, the man had never been wrong. Secretly he wondered if Daroga was thinking the same thoughts he was, for his friends brow was furrowed in confusion. Suddenly, the emptiness behind them was filled by the sharp figure of a man. Calmly the specter approached them. The theater was empty save these three, but had another soul been present, they would never have bothered to look twice at the scene playing out behind them. Erik watched the two men quietly; a small smile hidden by the shadows gracing his face.  
"Did you enjoy the opera gentlemen? I must admit that this particular version has never been a favorite of mine. But as tonight's was exquisite, perhaps this is the kind of opera that grows on you." Roul narrowed his eyes and backed away cautiously, The Persian grabbed him by the arm to steady him. "The opera was very good, however I was surprised that you were so cautious. I had expected to see you." Erik's eyes gleamed with excitement, the thought that he had been right on the stage and Daroga had not seen him was thrilling. Roul looked at Erik with mild annoyance. In return, Erik raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Cant a man even go to the opera these days without seeing ghosts!"  
Daroga failed to stop a chuckle from emerging, Erik merely sighed. "Very funny, you've truly spiced up my evening with your unmatchable wit viscount. How would I ever manage without your impeccable timing and humorous lines. " You could almost see the sarcasm, the very air was thick with it. Erik turned and looked towards box five. Then he returned his gaze to the men in front of him. "I do not wish to be rude, however I must leave you gentlemen, I'm afraid there is an appointment I must keep."  
  
Meg watched with wide eyes as the Phantom disappeared into the shadows, leaving Roul and the Persian unharmed. She was no fool. The ghost's recent behavior had meant that he was planning something, only the day before she had received a note of her own. The sight of the letter had filled her with dread, but to her surprise, the news had been only good... could the ghost be truly planning something? "Meg, just the dancer I had wanted to see." Meg spun around and fell right against the phantoms still form. With agile grace, he broke her fall and returned her to her feet.  
"O.G.! How can I be of service? The Persian and Viscount were here tonight, I thou..." a snarl escaped the phantom and he released her with malice in his eyes. "Do not play the fool to me! I saw you listening in on us! If you think you can trick me, I fear you are in danger of fooling yourself!" His anger eased when he heard her terrified sobbing, a wave of shame washed over him and he sighed, his anger defeated. "I... should not be so sharp, for that I apologize. But remember, I see all that goes on in my opera house. Do not underestimate me Meg." 


	5. Chapter Four

**_ Chapter four_**  
  
Alone, I sit in box five, my arm relaxed. Despite this, my mind is racing... will she come? Did she receive my note? Girdy would not fail to plant it in Diana's room... what am I thinking... "She's not coming, I should have known better." I rise to leave; a small urge forces me to look, one last time. There she is! Why is she actually coming?! A flicker of movement catches my eye, Daroga is following her... She is not aware of his presence, which is painfully obvious. It takes all my willpower to not jump from where I hide and truly let that fool have it! I remain hidden. With only the needed caution, Mademoiselle Grey approaches me, she cannot see where I hide, but that does not mean that I cannot see her.  
Silently...slowly...as if time itself is stopping... I watch her enter my box. Faster than she can see I spring and close the door, I'm afraid from the muffled yelp I hear, that I slammed it right in Daroga's face. I can picture it, him, standing outside this small room, rubbing his nose... the thought causes me to chuckle. This sound only further frightens the girl; her eyes run threw the darkness. I hear her gasp and I blink, I had not realized that even in this darkness she could see my eyes... "Forgive me, I never whished to scare you." The gentle blend of my voice seems to calm her, for she stops trying to find the way out. Then her eyes flash with understanding.  
"You, you're the voice I heard at my audition... and you were in my dressing room as well! You sent me the note!" A true smile spread over her face and I feel my heart swell within my breast. "You're very beautiful when you smile." I blink stunned, did I actually say that aloud?! Diana smiles, a small blush creeping over her face. "Will you turn on some kind of light? I cannot see in this darkness." ..."Sometimes the darkness is a blessing, not all things are as they should be in the lights we cast on them." Anger always caries into my voice, she could feel it, I could feel it. I watched as she struggled to understand, my fists clench so tightly I break the skin.  
"I didn't mean to hurt you, but I feel that I have... I'm sorry. I'm just not used to the dark." There was fear present in her voice, her hands had started to tremble. "I've always been afraid of shadows... the dark swallows up everything. It killed......, please, turn on a light!" She reached desperately for anything to gain control. I realized then how strange of a fear she has, when someone speaks to her the fear vanishes. However, in the dark, with only silence as her guide, her calmness fades into icy terror. Gently, I reached out to her; she sees my eyes and, instead of drawing back, lets me pull her close, her form shaking against mine.  
"The darkness can be so beautiful, I could show you how." I reached forward and took her hand in mine. "You have the ability to be great. I ask only that you let me assist you, if you agree, I can show you music like mankind has never imagined possible..." releasing her I reached out and lifted up the lantern I had brought with me. "Every word you say seems to burn true, can I trust you? Will you not even show yourself to me?!" My chuckle seemed to regain her trust, for she does not shield away as I take her hand in mine once more. "If I show myself to you, there will be conditions, rules that must be obeyed." Although obviously puzzled, she allowed me to continue. I took a deep breath, my nerves suddenly raw. "First, you must tell no one that you are taking lessons, I don't care what you use as an excuse. Secondly, I will always come to you, you must never try to find me, not unless it is a situation of life and death." I turned the gas light on low, just enough for her to make out my shape from the darkness. "Lastly, I wear a mask, you must never ask to see what lies behind it, and you must never, never attempt to remove it. Are we clear?"  
Diana nodded, and then froze, concern running threw her fair face. "You're hurt! Look at your hands! You're bleeding!" I could only watch stunned as she took the lantern from me and started to examine the wounds my own nails had made. "It's nothing Diana, you don't need to bother..." I gapped as she ripped the bottom of her dress and bandaged my hands. "That should hold for now, I'm not much of a doctor... you should try not to let those get infected." I withdrew my hands from hers and stared in shock at what she had done." You know, I still don't know what to call you." She smiled at me with trust.  
  
"My name... my name is Erik."  
  
Over the next few months Diana's lessons went by with great secrecy, not even her own brother knew where she was spending every spare moment of her time. The hardest part proved to be getting closer to her teacher. Erik came only to teach, he was strict, and trained her to the point of exhaustion. Nevertheless, she made sure to never complain. They had their lessons promptly at 6:00 each night. When the lessons were over they would sing one song together, just one duet, and he would leave. Is he afraid of me?  
"Diana!" Eriks annoyed exlemation startled me out of my thoughts. He shook his head in frustration, "Is there something of intrest that I should be aware of? " I lowered my head in embarasment. "Forgive me Erik, I was only thinking..." He raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Oh? What were you thinking, when you should have been paying attention?" With a sigh he sank into a chair. He locked eyes with me,"The role of Sybell is not an easy one Diana! You need to be ready! I smiled behind my hand, he allways took everything so seriously! Constantly telling me how a single preformance could make or break a singers carier. Vulturs! He would say, Critics are just vultures in human form! I had laughed when he had told me this, and after awhile he had joined me. Suddenly a sound reached our ears, with caution, I opened the door. Phantom mewed in anoyance and sprang into my arms. "Just the cat?" he whispered from behind me, I nodded and smiled. "I think she is starting to get jelouse of you Erik!"  
A thought suddently occurred to me, I had been meaning to ask him about this for awhile. "Erik, you know that the opera company is throwing a masquerade after our next big production. I was just wondering... will you be comeing? Please Erik? Will you come?" An erie silence decended around us, I could not judje my teatchers reaction because he had his back to me. A sickening fealing hit me that I had once again said something wrong. After what seemed like an eternity he turned, a sigh escaped his imposing form. "I'm sorry Diana, I fear that that is one event that I will definatly not attend." He could feel my disapointment, with pleading eyes he looked at me."You know that I have my reasons for not going."  
  
When our lesson ended, I did not return home as I had planned. She had every right to want me to go with her. Should I take such a risk? Of course not! The idea alone is stupid! To attend the company masquerade would be an easy enough feet, there would be no obstacle to keep me from entering. The chances of getting caught once inside are just to high... with Diana still in need of my teaching, the threat of her learning my place in the opera is to great. A sudden sound behind me causes me to whirl around, my lasso in hand.  
"Erik! Its only me!!" Daroga stepped back to avoid accidentally being punjabed. "You should really learn to question first, kill later." Sarcasm was evident in his tone. With an annoyed growl in the back of my throat, I returned the noose to its hiding place. "One of these days I'm going to kill you Daroga, and I will feel no guilt." I turned, not wanting to speak with him, he did not take the hint and followed me. "How are your lessons with mademoiselle Grey progressing? He laughed as I shot him an annoyed look. "She has... potential, I intend to continue to train her voice. She still holds back, I don't know why..."  
"Perhaps it is because the girl has many insecurities, her brother is her support beam. While on the subject Erik, Peter is becoming suspicious. You are aware of this?" I nodded, the subject of Diana's brother had been troubling me. Seeing my silence as a sign to continue, Daroga took a deep breath. "You have been getting rather careless Erik, several stagehands have mentioned seeing the opera ghost. Blaa Blaa Blaa......" By this point I was simply ignoring him. Sadly, he failed to realize this.  
My stride broke sharply, I hid my wince. The dull pain that had been focusing itself in my chest all day was getting much worse... It had been easy enough to ignore during my lesson with Diana. However, I had a gut feeling that this was going to get worse before it got better. With a shudder I finally realize what has been causing it. Oh god no, oh please not right now! Not with Daroga... A painful spasm running down my spine, my luck has run out. It has to be an attack, and listening to Daroga reprimand me is only making it worse... In a last attempt, I move to walk away. My legs give way beneath me. I felt the hard floor hit my side, knocking the breath right out of me...  
  
I rushed to his side when I saw Erik fall, I had seen no sign of the attack coming! He seemed unable to breath properly, his arms wrapped in a vice like grip around his chest. With the speed of one experienced in dealing with dangerous situations, I tried to ease his discomfort by lifting his back from the floor. Eventually, his breath evened out, his form relaxed from the tight ball it had curled into. With the permission I saw in his eyes, I helped him to his feet. "Are you alright?" he nodded weakly, trying to push me away. "I can manage now, thank you Daroga." His stubbornness to allow me to help him will continue to annoy me for as long as I may know him.  
"You should really see a doctor about this Erik, it's only going to get worse." He chuckled at my suggestion and I knew the sad irony of the situation, he could never see a doctor! He could never do most of the things I took for granted! One look at that face, and Allah himself would turn on him. Secretly, though I would never tell Erik, I was always worried about his health. He no longer had the amazing healing abilities he once had, his drug experiences in Persia had made sure of that. His system had been left in shambles from his addictions. Over time, he had fortunately managed to drop all of these, save one. His blasted dependency on morphine... That's what causes these attacks.  
I know that the veins on his arms are all collapsed, and several spots on his legs bare the needle mark as well. Silently I wondered if he had injected any recently. "Daroga, the company masquerade is coming up. Diana asked me if I would go with her, naturally I am reluctant to comply, do you want to help discourage me?" I could not help but smile, so now he wants my advice? Well, I want to hear a proper question first. "Consider yourself thoroughly discouraged." He looked at me puzzled, than annoyed. "Honestly Daroga! Should I go with her? Is it too dangerous?" I chuckled softly, "Life is full of dangers Erik, but we only live once." I saw him smile behind the mask." Go with her Erik, but please, be careful." 


	6. Chapter Five

To all my reviewers!!! Thank you for all your comments and support! Is it really spelled Giry? I always thought it was Girdy! My bad! :) Also I apologize about the changing perspective, I never realized it could be confusing! Please try to bear with it... I'm afraid it will spoil some of the fun to take that little bit of confusing thought out! Please keep reviewing and letting me know all your opinions! Thanks!  
  
**_ Chapter Five_**  
  
All of Paris France seemed to be at the opera house on September the thirteenth, the scheduled night of the company masquerade. Within the marble walls, all of the upper class chatted and moved about like the swell of the oceans tide. Crystal wine glasses clinked in the corners and gay laughter wafted down the stairwells. At the heart of all this joy and merriment, the viscount and the managers set talking. Their minds recalling with detail a very similar gathering several years past. With a cough, Firmin excused himself and went to mingle with the crowd.  
"Do you suppose that the Phantom will burden us with his presence this year?" Andrea whispered when it seemed that no one was listening. Roul smiled and shook his head. "If he has not attended the masquerade since the time I was last here, what inclines you to think he will attend now?" Firmin returned with three glasses of wine and handed the other two to his companions. "Quite a turnout we have tonight eh?"  
  
Diana swirled around her dressing room with a joyous laugh, her new dress flowing around her in satin waves. Lifting up the mask that had come with it she modeled her outfit in front of Kirsty who applauded with enthusiasm. "Diana, its perfect! Where on earth did you get it?!" She took the mask from Diana and stared at its intricate design etched in silver. "Here's another question, how did you afford it?!" Diana smiled, her eyes dancing. "That's the best part! I think it must have been a gift from my brother, I knew he had been saving up his extra pay for awhile!" Kirsty could only gape in awe. "It's people like your brother that make me wish I had a sibling of my own! That was so sweet of him!"  
Both girls continued to marvel over the dress until Phantoms excited meowing drew them to the door. A parcel was sitting outside with a note tied to its cover. With the eagerness of children, giggling with glee, they ripped of the crude wrapping. A beautiful pair of new ball shoes greeted their eyes. "What on earth?" Diana opened the note and read,  
  
Dearest sister,  
  
I was told by Madam Girdy a week ago of the dress you had purchased, so I decided that you wouldn't get very far without some shoes! I hope these match well! Please enjoy yourself tonight sister, I will be watching for you! I wonder if I'll know you when I see you with a mask on?  
With love, your brother Peter.  
  
Kirsty and Diana stared at each other in shock, their eyes wide with wonderment. "So it wasn't you brother!" Diana nodded, her confusion plain. "Madam Giry thinks I purchased this dress? There's no way that I could have!" Kirsty raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "We'll figure this out eventually, till then, you have the best dress and mask out there!" catching a glimpse at the time, kirsty blushed with embarrassment and ran for the door. "I have to go! I'll see you there Diana!"  
Diana sat back and tried to understand what was going on. If Peter didn't send her the dress, than who did? Suddenly, in the reflection of the mirror, an envelope on her desk caught her eye. She rushed over, wondering to herself why she had not noticed this before. The familiar red ink greeted her like an old friend. With excitement growing, she tore open the note and blinked as a sapphire rose shaped pendent on a silver chain fell into her hand. At first, she could only stare in awe. Then, remembering the letter, the read the following.  
  
My dearest Diana,  
  
I hope you do not think me to forward, I simply saw the dress and had to see it on you, it would not have suited another. I was pleased to hear that your brother took care of the shoes. He is such a good brother to you! My thoughts did not leave our last conversation, and so I have decided to attend the masquerade, if it still pleases you after my earlier refusal. You will know me when you see me, I promise. Also, please wear the necklace so that I will be sure to recognize you. With all the people in Paris, there is the slim chance that someone else will have that dress. However, no one will have that necklace. Let us enjoy the beauty of the night together. I am waiting for you.  
  
Erik  
  
With a cry of surprise and joy, Diana threw on the shoes, and carefully put the necklace on her throat. Then, with a whispered thank you, and a stroke or two for her cat, she quit the room  
  
She emerges into view, an image of perfection. I cannot stop the sigh of contentment that escapes me. She looks so beautiful, no mater what she wears... a smile sneaks onto my face as she recognizes me. She waves to catch my attention, foolish child, as if I would not spot her beacon of light among the crowd. "Erik! Thank you so much for coming! I was so surprised that you reconsidered! And all this... you really shouldn't have..." I laugh as I take her hand in mine. Her eyes shine so brightly, I could lose myself forever in her eyes... she smiles as I take her toward the dance floor."...You are quite welcome, however, in payment, I demand the first dance of the evening." she laughs and I feel my heart beat faster. "That is of course, should you wish to dance..." she puts her hand on my shoulder, the glow of happiness on her face. I'm not even sure what we are dancing to, and for the sake of everything, I don't care. Here is heaven, here is peace. Her head resting against my shoulder, her breath soft on my neck...  
For a moment, a tinge of fear runs through me, dear God, I... I cannot have allowed myself to love her... I become aware that all eyes are on us as we sweep across the dance floor. Should they discover me, with her... Her eyes meet mine, happy and unaware of all danger. She trusts me to keep her safe... "We're being watched..." Her whisper sends a shudder of pleasure down my spine, renewing my faded confidence. "Let them watch." The rest of our dance is lost to me in a wave of pure bliss. To feel so free, having her in my arms, dancing with me... trusting me... "We should have danced together whenever we had lessons, I feel so alive like this..." I smile, feeling more at peace than I had felt for a long time. The dance stops, the crowd applauds with admiration.  
"Diana! Can't you ever just go somewhere without being the center of attention?!" Kirsty, a chorus girl, comes forward and embraces Diana with a grin. Diana turns to me and laughs at my amusement, "In all honesty kirsty, these things just seem to happen..." It's apparent that an introduction is expected. Diana looks at me, I nod in agreement. "Erik, this is Kirsty, Kirsty, this is Erik... he's an old friend of mine." Kirsty curtsied politely, "It's a pleasure to meet you monsieur Erik." I bow to return the gesture, "Please, the pleasure is all mine Mademoiselle, I enjoy meeting Diana's friends."  
Diana of course had to go off and talk to other people, she has a carrier to worry about, and so with my free time I searched for Daroga. I eventually locate him by one of the many windows in the ballroom. He smiled at me, a smirk of humor subtly present on his face. "How goes the party my friend? I've been trapped by the crowd in this corner since it started!" I shake my head in disbelief, does his sense of humor have an off button? "Don't be such a stranger! Come speak with me, get a drink!" silently I wonder how much he has drank this evening, then the stupidity of that thought hits me. Daroga doesn't drink very often, and never enough to even become tipsy! Get your thoughts in order!  
  
I watched the Phantom as he made his way from the dance floor to where the Persian stood. Kirsty and Diana made their way in the opposite direction toward the managers. A hand descended on my shoulder, I whirled around to see the Viscount. "Monsieur! You startled me! His eyes locked with mine. "Why is he here? Is he trying to get himself killed?!" I could do nothing but stare at him, my tongue at a loss for words. "I have no idea why he is here! All I know is that it has something to do with Diana Grey." A chalky whiteness passed over his features, he seemed about to speak, and then stopped. Silently we turned and looked to where the Persian and the Phantom had been standing, an empty corner greeted us mockingly. "This is definitely not good Giry, not good at all."  
  
"You know, considering this is a masquerade, should we really know each others names?" Diana looked at Kirsty in puzzlement. They looked around to see how many people they recognized. Only a few stood out from the crowd. "Well, we don't know everyone... in fact, I don't see anyone else I know!" Both smiled and tried to guess whom the man coming up to them was. "Well! I think I know you two! Kirsty and Diana?" They nodded and stared at the mask, then Diana blinked. "Peter! I didn't even recognize you!" Peter smiled and did a little dance. "Pretty nice eh? Meg helped me make it! She's very good with these things. Who was that man I saw you dancing with Diana?"  
Diana paled behind the mask and tried to come up with a good answer, nothing new came to mind. She had never been a good liar. "I can introduce you to him, if we ever find him again..." she sighed with relief when Peter agreed, Erik would know how to handle this much better than she could. Looking back at Peter, she could not help but sigh. How she wished she could just tell him... they had never kept anything from each other before. "Diana? I see your brother figured out who you are." Peter looked into Erik's eyes and smiled, "I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met?" Erik smiled and bowed at the waist, "You are correct, we have not met formally before. I am Erik." Peter blinked, feeling silly for not realizing that this man, with his manners, could easily be a patron of the opera!  
Attempting to seem on top of things, Peter mimicked Erik's gesture. "I am Peter Grey, you seem to know my sister Diana." Silently Erik approved of the act and rewarded Peters efforts with a smile. "Yes, Diana and I are very well acquainted." For no purpose but to seemingly lay down more tripwires, Daroga came over and joined the conversation. It soon became apparent that to many people had arrived, with a smile and nod, Erik and Diana excused them selves. Alone at last, the two sat on the benches outside the Stages entrance. Timidly, Erik reached over and placed his hand on hers. She smiled and snuggled against him. For a moment he froze, then relaxed into her embrace. "Thank you for convincing me to come." Diana tuned toward the whisper, her eyes shining in the golden light. "No Erik, thank you."  
  
I have been studying with Erik for almost seven months now, since the masquerade he has relaxed around me a bit more every day. When I wake up in the mornings I can sometimes expect to see him smiling at me from the chair beside my bed. He somehow knew that I have nightmares, even though I never told him. The firs time I caught him he was deeply ashamed, afraid that he had overstepped his bounds and imposed his presence upon me! I was more than happy for his company, I explained, for it stopped my nightmares and allowed me to sleep. It makes me feel safer knowing he might be there when I wake up. As imposing as he can be, there is no human alive more gentle than he is with me. His voice could bring me to tears of joy with only the softest songs. Together, when we sing, I could have sworn by my life that we had dropped all ties to earth. With our hearts and souls as one, there is no duet that can intimidate us, no song to difficult, no pitch to fine.  
As I began to become more skilled, we would try harder and harder pieces. Sometimes I sounded so horrible we could do nothing but laugh! I know that Erik is looking for perfection; I always try my best when we practice. However, when I am on stage he claims that I lose my fire, as fine as my voice is, it is just not enough! One evening, after a rigorous lesson, he led me to the stage. "Diana, we need to solve this problem. I want you to sing for me, do it as if we were still in your dressing room." I nodded nervously, and when he looked into my eyes, I knew that he had complete faith in me. "Lorsqu sola co-chaunt, le riveris sont roses! E Quinta, defris son cor sur le champs–de-blea..." A signal from Erik stopped me, I looked at him with despair, he was right! "Diana... are you afraid of the stage? Does anything up there disturb you? Make you uncomfortable?" I shook my head no. Erik seemed puzzled by this. "Did anything frightening ever happen to you on a stage?"  
Peter, who had been walking outside the theater, paused when he heard the familiar voice of his sister on the stage. Opening the doors a crack, he peeked inside. Diana stood on the stage, the dim glow of a lantern the only light by her. In the darkness, a figure he could not see but by the way he spoke was obviously a teacher for his sister, questioned Diana. Peter's heart turned to ice when he heard the man ask if Diana feared the stage. Unable to stay hidden any longer, peter made his way down the isle. "Did anything frightening ever happen to you on a stage?"  
"Because of a stage we lost our parents. Diana was only six, but I remember." Diana's eyes grew wide. "Peter! How long have you been here?" the figure glanced at Diana, then back at her brother. "If I may ask such a thing, how did it happen?" Peter strained to see the man who spoke to him, but the darkness was too deep. Then he recognized the voice. "Erik? Is that you? You're the person who's been training my sister?" Diana nodded with a smile, "How did you know I was receiving lessons?" Peter smiled. "With such an improvement in your voice, how could I not know?" There was a cough from the shadows, Erik turned back to Peter. "Forgive me, but it is of the utmost importance for me to learn of the negative experience that happened Involving a stage. Your sister's career depends on my ability to help her drop the screen between her voice, and the audience." Peter sighed, and sank into a chair.  
"You really need to know, well here's the truth. When I was only eight, and Diana was only six, our parents died." On the stage Diana paled. "They were both performers, and were working late rehearsing a scene; the stage they practiced on was old and needed to be replaced. However the management of that theater never told them that!" Erik nodded to himself; since he had helped to build the opera house they stood in, he knew the importance of a safe stage. Peter's eyes narrowed as he continued. "Suddenly, the stage just collapsed beneath them! They didn't even have time to cry out for help..." Diana ran off the stage and placed her arms around her brother, her entire form shaking. Erik wanted to comfort her himself, but knew better then to interrupt the two siblings.  
"Please, I know this is hard for you, but what happened next?' Peter looked back toward the shadow-covered form of Erik and nodded. "The crash caused the entire building to shake, fearing for Diana's life as well as my own, I took her hand and ran outside. Help arrived too late, our parents were crushed to death." Peter shook his head, unable to go on. Diana's soft weeping was the only sound that could be heard. "Thank you peter, I know this was hard for you. This definitely explains our problem..." Diana looked at Erik, one look at her tear stained face, and he felt an unbelievable need to wrap his arms around her. Just to keep her safe. Determination iced his features.  
"I will check with the management immediately, I'm sure they will hire someone to check the stage for flaws. I swear to you both, if this stage is found unsafe we will have it replaced the moment we find out."  
  
"As hard as it is to believe, Erik seems to have fallen in love again." The Persian and Roul sat in front of the roaring fireplace, their forms outlined by the flames. With a low sigh, Roul got to his feet and offered another drink. He had invited the Persian to his house to chat. However, as usual, their conversation seemed to revolve around the opera. "Nothing good will come of this, why can't he see that?!" Daroga shook his head, "Erik has always wanted nothing more than to have what others take for granted. Why do you think that he would stop loving for the good of mankind? The thought is nothing more than amusing!"  
Roul nodded, his eyes on the flames. The flickering light seemed to take form for a moment. Dancing in the flames, Christine beckoned to him, her eyes burning right into him. "I feel as if Christine wants me to stop this disaster before history repeats itself, what do I do Daroga?"  
The Persian sighed. "If you think that you can take him in a fight, you must be crazy." He winced as he sipped his wine, Roul nodded. "I fear this was not a good year for wine..." Both put their glasses down with distaste. In the distance a dog barked, then the night was still again. Gathering his hat and cloak, the Persian turned to Roul. "I thank you for inviting me to your house Viscount, however, as it is getting late, I will take my leave."  
  
The opera house was silent as the Persian ascended its steps, his crisp footfalls shattering the nights quiet. Once inside, he removed his coat and hat. The warmth that greeted him inside was a relief, the smell of cedar wood and the perfume of an evenings crowd lingered in the air. Tonight had been a true triumph for Diana Grey. Daroga knew he would find himself reading about it in the papers when morning came. The only noise disturbing the tranquility of the hall were his hushed footfalls.  
A soft cough behind him caught Daroga's attention. Erik smiled at his friend, obviously having just woken up. "Daroga, what brings you here at this hour?" Daroga sighed. "The knowledge that you do your morning rounds at this hour, that's what." With a sweep of his cape, the opera ghost offered a chair. Once both men were sitting, the calm that had flowed threw the room shattered. A seriousness settled over Erik's features as he watched his friends sudden silence, something was wrong... "Daroga, what is it?" Daroga looked into Erik's eyes. His mouth forming silent words,  
"Erik...it's a trap..." 


	7. Chapter Six

**_ Chapter six_**  
  
Diana woke at the sound of something collapsing on the floor beside her bed. She almost jumped with the shock and stared over the side, it was to dark to see anything... "Phantom? Is that you?" Her eyes grew wide when she felt her loving pet curled up beside her. A low moan shattered the tense silence, "Erik!!" Leaping out of bed, she lit her lamp and froze. He lay on his side, seemingly attempting to curl into a ball. His rasping breaths sounded weak... "Erik! What happened?!"  
She raised his head into her lap. Her hands prying at the spot on his side that he covered with the last of his strength. "Erik! You have to let me see!" Limply, his hands released their hold and Diana sagged as the wound was revealed. "My God..." Something had ripped its way threw his skin and had hit a rib. Blood was welling from the hole, an oozing puddle began to form on the floor. With eyes wide she surveyed the damage, her mouth hanging agape. "...Diana..." His whisper was barely audible, his hand closed weakly over hers.  
Grasping his hand with all her strength she tried to think, he needed a doctor, there was no way she could do anything for this! But that meant running for help, and to leave him like this.... Her eyes closed as tears welled up behind the lids. If I scream, someone will come, someone will have to hear me, I cant leave him bleeding to death!  
The door to her room slammed open, a strange man rushed inside, flushed from running. "Is he still breathing? How bad is the damage?!" Diana stared at him, but her mouth worked as if possessed. "It looks bad, the wounds on his side and he's losing too much blood. I think he's still conscious, he whispered my name..." The stranger grabbed Erik's wrist and checked for a pulse. Letting that drop he pressed his hand against the wound to stop the blood flow.  
"You've been very brave mademoiselle, I thank you deeply. I must ask if you can assist me in returning Erik to home where, if we hurry, I might be able to save him." Diana nodded without thinking. Together they lifted Erik up and carried him, to Diana's shock, right threw a hole in the wall that had appeared where her mirror was. The way was dark, they traveled it in hurried silence. By the time Diana could see properly they had come to a stop beside the cool waters of the underground lake.  
"Sir! You've led us to a dead end! Where do we go from here?" With a gesture, the stranger indicated a small boat on the nearby shore. "We need to get across the lake. I'll row the oars, you need to talk to him, see if he can hear you." Diana nodded and helped to place Erik's still form in the boat, he moaned lightly as he was set down. Once in the small craft, Diana took his hand in hers, whispering whatever came to her mind desperately into his ear. Only when they reached the other shore did Diana really have time to consider how strange this all was. Her guide Lifted Erik from the boat, his gaze was enough to tell Diana that they were in time. To her shock, he merely pressed the wall and a door opened!  
He motioned her to follow, and then disappeared into the hole. It was then that Diana remembered the stories of the dancer, Christine Daae, and her mysterious lover, The Phantom of the Opera. Her heart raced and she backed into the boat behind her. That man with Erik... could he be the Phantom? With courage she had not known she possessed, she took a deep breath, and entered the Phantoms lair.  
  
The room was lit only by the remains of a fire; its dying embers cast strange shadows on the floor. Above the black marble mantelpiece, a statue showing a demon and an angel, locked in loves embrace, appeared to watch her... Elegant tapestries and rugs covered the floor and walls, seemingly of Persian origin. An ebony table rested beside a luxurious couch. Here, the Phantom lay Erik down. Then with speed she did not realize men possessed, ran to another room. For her part, she sank into an armchair and tried to relax. Whoever this man was, he wanted to help Erik. As far as she was concerned, that was enough to warrant investigation before accusation.  
The man suddenly reappeared with a bag and sat down beside her, once again their eyes met. "...Can you help him? Is there some way I can help?" From the Phantoms glance, she could tell he was in control. "You have been a great help already, however I believe I can handle this from here." His smile calmed her down; there was something about him she felt she could trust. "Why don't you get yourself a glass of water in the kitchen? When I'm done removing the bullet and stitching him up I'll call you."  
Without another word he turned and removed a tool from the bag, Diana had a feeling she would not enjoy watching this. A bullet? Why would anyone want to shoot her teatcher?! A short search led her to the kitchen he had suggested. The floor here was done in marble and the table and chairs in oak. With relief she discovered the sink worked. Washing her face, she looked for a cup. Several cabinets met her gaze with a challenge. She sighed, there was no way she was about to engage in a dig threw someone's kitchen.  
A cry from the other room sent her running to investigate. Erik was awake, and by no means comfortable. His cry turned into a low moan as he strained to pull away from the source of the pain. With one last tug, the bullet came lose and slipped into the Phantoms hand. "We were lucky this time, this could have cost you your life Erik." Erik chuckled weakly as he eyed the small weapon; "We really are a frail species... to be killed by something so small..." He smiled at the look he received, that turned into a grimace as the needle and tread pulled threw his damaged skin. "Do me a favor Daroga... create a signal... so that you can warn me when you're being used as bait..." With a shocked glance he realized Diana was in the room, Daroga nodded and sighed. "I needed help, and she was conveniently available, besides, you were going to tell her eventually."  
Erik glared at the Phantom for a moment, then nodded, his eyes unreadable. With what he had recovered of his strength, he beckoned Diana to his side. Once she sank down beside him, his eyes sought hers. "Diana, there are some things you need to know... but before you hear them, I want you to promise me something..."Diana nodded, "I've kept your secrets before, nothing you could tell me now would frighten me. I know your heart." Erik smiled softly, sadness hidden behind his mask. "What I tell you may make you think differently..." With a deep breath, Erik braced himself. Her eyes so wide and trusting..."Diana, I am the Phantom of the Opera, O.G."  
Her expression turned into one of disbelief, a small shudder ran down her spine. "You?! The Phantom of the Opera? But I thought that..." She stared at Daroga. Daroga's eyes widened, "You thought I was the Phantom?" He sputtered, amusement written all over his countenance. With a sigh, Erik turned his head away from her gaze. His shame burning him just as deeply as the pain did. "You must despise me..." His eyes as well as Daroga's went wide as Diana placed her hand on the side of Erik's mask, tilting his face towards hers. "Ghost, demon, phantom, no name you could give me would change who you are. You are Erik, my instructor." She carefully wrapped her arms around him, aware of the pain his wound was causing. "That is all I need to know. As I said, I know your heart."  
Daroga smiled and offered his hand to Diana. "If it is all right with you my friend, I will return Diana to her room. Soon the day will start and they will look for her." Erik nodded and planted a soft kiss on Diana's cheek. Despite the mask, his kiss was soft. "Now go quickly my dove, fly back to your world. If I can, I will come for you at nightfall."  
  
Within the month, the wound had healed so that nothing remained but the scar. To Erik it was only one among many, but to Diana, it symbolized a great fear. The fear of loss, of losing one you care for, in a situation you cannot control. Despite investigation, the person who had fired the gun was not discovered. This caused rumors of the rivalry between the ghost and the viscount to take on amazing forms.  
The bond that Diana and Erik shared seemed only to be tightened by the truth coming out. Now, the only thing between them was their pasts, and Erik's porcelain mask. Another opera swept threw the theater and rehearsals began demanding more attention. For the first time, the limits of Diana's voice were discovered. After several strenuous rehearsals, and two hectic performances, the desire to sing faded behind the need to rest.  
  
"Diana! Pay attention girl! You're falling out of step!" Madam Giry's patience was beginning to wear thin. To her surprise, Diana sat down, her form shaking with sobbing. "Child! Whatever is the matter?" gently she took the sobbing girl into her arms. "I'm sorry madam Girdy... I'm just so tired... I can't do anything right!" Giry blinked back her surprise, Diana never complained. Thinking quickly, she came up with a solution. "Perhaps it would be best for you to take the rest of the rehearsal off and rest a bit."  
Diana thanked her and walked slowly of to her room. Giry felt the ghosts eyes on her the rest of the hour. When her students ran of to fetch a drink and rest, his form materialized in the shadows. Silently they moved toward each other. "What is wrong with Diana?" his voice held concern. "The same thing that is wrong with most of our cast. She's exhausted." The specter nodded thoughtfully. "Then she is alright? There is nothing wrong with her?" The Ballet mistress nodded. "For some reason this has been a hard opera for our cast and crew to perform. I'm not sure why though."  
With a word of thanks and a courteous bow, the ghost took his leave. He entered Diana's rooms as quietly as he could, however she saw him coming and smiled. "Erik, you should know better then to try to sneak up on me." He returned her smile and sat at the foot of her bed, with a loud meow, Phantom leapt onto his lap. "For your information, I do know better. If I had truly wanted to, I could have come in here without being seen... Even if you were looking right at me." Diana smiled, his confidence causing a feeling of amusement to rise in her.  
"Oh? I think you underestimate me." Erik shook his head, was she trying to challenge him? With a sly grin he vanished back into the shadows. Diana blinked, and then smiled. "Is this your way of playing hide and seek? Ready or not, here I come!" Erik sidestepped as she ran at him; she missed and fell onto her bed with a plop. "You need to keep trying! I'm here!" changing her tactics, Diana ran the opposite direction from which the sound was coming. By the loud thwack that was heard, it is safe to assume that she connected with her target. Erik stared at her, "Perhaps you do know me too well..."  
Diana smiled and pushed herself to her feet, he joined her a moment later. With a sigh, Diana sank down onto her bed. "The rehearsals are really starting to wear me down." Erik nodded, his eyes once more holding concern. "I saw your incident on the stage, Madam Giry can be a bit harsh..." Diana shook her head no. "It was my fault Erik, not hers. I'm sorry I behaved so childishly..." she blinked as his warm hands folded over her own. "We all have our bad days, no one holds it against you." His smile warmed her heart, with a sigh she relaxed into his arms. "I need to rest for tonight's opera, will you be attending Erik?" his chuckle teased her ears, with gentle fingers he caressed her back. His arms wrapped around her always felt right.  
"I will of course be attending, though I should leave you now so that you can rest." A feeling of incompletion descended on her as he released her and stood. With a respectful bow, he vanished threw her mirror. Once on the other side, Erik made his way to the stables, he had plans for after tonight's performance. A shadow moved in the corner and he spun to face it, snarling under his breath as Roul advanced on him. "I think we need to speak." 


	8. Chapter Seven

** Chapter seven**  
  
I have never felt like this before, I trust him with everything. My life, my soul, my heart... do I love him? Is it even possible for me to love a man whose face I've never seen? I think it must be, it's the only way I can explain the emotions running threw me! Other men have approached me in the past, since my success here some have attempted to court me... still my heart goes out to the man whose face is behind a mask. Despite his promise, he does not attend the performance. The first act is awful, I feel so alone without someone in the audience that I know... I fear that my voice will crack!  
The rest of the cast can see my worry; I know that when the act finishes I will be questioned. I don't want that to happen... "Diana!! What is it? What's wrong?" Kirsty runs over to me and I look her in the eye. "He isn't here Kirsty! He promised that he would come..." Her expression turns into one of confusion, "I'm sure he's just late Diana. Erik has never missed a performance, until he shows up you just have to pretend he's here." Silently I thank God in heaven for Kirsty's common sense, he has been late before. Madam Giry hurries over to us. "Is everything alright you two? There's only three minutes left until we start the second act!"  
I looked at Kirsty, she squeezed my hand. "Everything's just fine, we were just headed to our places." Giry nodded and hurried of, Kirsty smiled at me. "Your doing beautifully, just keep it up!" without another word we separated and went to our places. Erik never came. When the performance was over, I ran to my dressing room. Unsure of whether he was mad at me, or something had happened. He was not there either!  
Fear began to get the better of me and I pushed against the glass of my mirror in frustration. To my shock the mirror sprang open! It had certainly never done that before! "When I find Erik I'll have to ask him to look at this thing... before I kill him for driving me crazy and breaking his promise." Phantom looked at me from where she lay and tilted her head quizzically. Despite myself, I smiled and picked her up into my arms. "You should feel very lucky you haven't met a tom cat Phantom, men can be very frustrating." She purred and rubbed against my chest, content to listen to me ramble as long as I petted her.  
Looking back towards the mirror, a spark of curiosity was lit in my mind. What world was hidden on the other sides of mirrors? I had often enough seen Erik vanish into them, where did they lead? I myself had only passed threw them once before, and the Persian had led at such a fast pace that I had no time to see the areas around me. With cautious steps, I passed threw my mirror and into what could only be called a labyrinth. Phantom meowed with distaste and leapt back into the room.  
I shrugged my shoulders and sighed, "Very well, I'll go alone. You big scared cat!" Phantom yawned and turned her back. As I walked away from the square opening, I could not escape the feeling that my cat was being smarter than I was. Which is a very strange feeling indeed! The path I was following had several side routs that led of in different directions. I resolved to explore them on my way back. The only sounds I could hear were the soft tapping of my shoes on the stone floor, and water dripping somewhere nearby.  
The dim light began to brighten as I reached the end of the passage. The smells of hay and horses greeted my nose, allowing me to guess that I was near the stables. My assumption proved to be correct, soon I was up to my ankles in hay. A horse nudged me with its nose, sending me sprawling into an empty stall. The look I gave the creature said it all.  
  
Erik was loosing his patience. The viscount had been rambling on for what certainly seemed like hours. In a way he had to pity his former rival, the man acted as if he was living from day to day by will alone. It was a feeling that Erik could relate to. However, Erik had finally moved on. The viscount on the other hand, behaved as if Christine were standing right behind him! "Do you think you have wasted enough of my time yet? My foot's falling asleep." Roul blinked, these were the first words the ghost had offered during his accusations. "What good can come of teaching this woman? Is this your attempt to replace Christine?!"  
The ghost sighed and shook his head, "I miss her to viscount, but I have moved on. She's dead Roul." He stepped back when his rival attempted to lunge at him. The viscount crumbled to the floor sobbing. "Do you think I don't know that?" the tears ran freely down his face. "I think about her every other moment, do you know that her last thoughts were of you?!" Erik's eyes widened, but he said nothing. "She was always thinking about you! Talking about you! She was my wife, but you owned her more than I did!"  
Their eyes met and Erik recoiled from Roul's wrathful gaze. "I loved her with all my heart, but you owned her soul." With the support his anger was giving him, Roul advanced, his rambling growing more crazed. "I think the child would have finally made her truly love me, but instead it stole her from me! Just like you!" A loud thwack echoed of the walls, the viscount crumbled under the force of Erik's blow. "ENOUGH!!"  
Erik's breaths came in angry hissing gasps, his eyes burned with hellfire. "How dare you blame her death on me!!" under such an onslaught the courage that had allowed Roul to get this far fled him. Desperately he struggled to pull himself away from the enraged specter. "I loved her more than life itself!! That's why I gave her to you!! Ignorant fool!!" Towering over him, Erik pulled Roul to his feet and held him by the neck. "And to say it was my fault she never loved you? I never ruled her heart!" With a disgusted snarl he threw the viscount to the floor. Unsure of what to do Roul lay still, his eyes wide with terror. "Go Roul, do not return if you value your life! Go!!"  
  
Diana watched as the Viscount fled down the passage. Once he was out of sight, her eyes turned back to Erik. Her teachers form seemed to lose its aura of danger, he swayed on his feet and braced himself against a wall. His eyes closed tightly with pain. "Erik?..." He stiffened, his eyes wide as she came towards him. "Are you alright?" With s sigh he shook his head dismayed, "Diana, this was not something you were suppose to see..." with caution, he placed his hands on her shoulders.  
"That was the Viscount-de-changny, an old rival of mine with no purpose left in life except to torment me!" The anger in his eyes faded to pity, a small chuckle escaped his lips. "In grief over the death of his wife he comes to me and rants, hoping it will ease his pain. It consumes him, I know how it feels..." Diana took his face in her hands, a tear falling down her cheek. "You loved her, didn't you." Erik could only nod, internal pains, years of sorrow resurfacing behind his walls. "I never knew this Christine, but I do know this. If you loved her, she must have been blessed." Her eyes shone and Erik was forced to look into them in awe.  
"And I'm sure she now resides happily with our lord in heaven, where you will see her again someday." The love that was transferred from her heart to his eased the pain, she lay her head against his shoulder and his arms encircled her. "I would be lost without you." The tender whisper warmed the silence, Diana raised her head to see his eyes. Their lips brushed lightly, a frightened caress... "Erik...I love you..."  
  
Phantom looked up as her owner and Erik entered the room. Both were holding each other, she yowled a protest as they sat on the bed, almost right on top of her. "Are you sure your alright? You can stay here with me if you want to." Erik smiled and shook his head. "There are things that I must attend to, I will come back..." Their lips met again, Diana released Erik's hand. "I'll wait for you." Phantom jumped into Diana's empty lap and purred, her owner stroked her lightly. Erik bowed and disappeared threw the mirror. The glass seemed to shimmer as it closed behind him.  
Walking threw the passage Erik's ears picked up the sound of footsteps, turning around he was greeted by Darogas concerned face. "Erik! I just saw Roul flee the vicinity as if hells fires were chasing him! What happened?!" seeing Erik's expression he quickly crossed the distance between them. "Is everything alright?" without warning, the phantom burst out into laughter! Daroga raised an eyebrow. "Erik? What on earth is so funny?" the look he received only succeeded in confusing him more. "I'm sorry, it's just your timing my friend! That fool kept me down her e for several hours, and you only wonder where I am when you see him running away!" The Persian shook his head, "I still don't know what's so funny..."  
Right when he thought Erik had passed the limits of his confusion, he found himself trapped in a bear hug! "Erik! What has possessed you man?! Are you feeling sane?!" Erik's laughter once again reached his ears. "She can't possibly but she does! Daroga! She can't but she does! And I feel the same! Do you realize what this means?!" Daroga blinked, "To be honest, I didn't understand a word of that. Come again?" Erik took a deep breath, and tried again. "She loves me Daroga! Diana somehow loves me! I don't know how, but she does! And I feel the same! What do I do? I feel so confused!"  
Daroga looked into his friends eyes and smiled, laying a hand on his shoulder. "If you love her, and she loves you, what can I say? Follow your heart. Go where it leads you, but please tell me this much. Has Diana seen you yet without your mask?" Erik shook his head. "She has never requested that I remove it, and I have no desire to." He sighed, "She's going to ask someday... I don't know if I can deny her." A sound from behind them caused both men to turn, Meg came out of the shadows. "Phantom, if I may... is this wise?" "I feel it's my duty, as one of Christine's friends, to prevent a repeat of the events from five years ago.  
Erik's eyes narrowed sharply. "Are you implying something mademoiselle?" The silence that descended on the group was an uncomfortable one. "I am only bringing it up, we do not need anything like that to ever happen again." A smile crept over Erik's face. He tilted his head and almost seemed to dare her to comment. "It would seem you have thrown caution to the wind, do you no longer fear me?" Meg saw the trap he was laying, and knew that the danger was now very real. "No, I no longer fear you as I once did. I saved your life phantom. I know that you will remember that."  
A look of amusement seemed to mold itself to Erik's face; the little that you could see was smiling. Yet, his eyes were cold. Sensing the growing hostility, the Persian coughed lightly and drew their attention away from each other. "It seems to me that it is getting late , perhaps we should all head our own ways." Erik nodded; his eyes catching the little light that shone threw the passage. "Until we meet again."  
  
The first sounds of morning were slow to reach the opera houses bedrooms, Diana first became aware as she woke, of a figure sitting on the chair. She smiled, watching as Erik's chest rose and fell beneath his opera suite. His gentle breaths barely making a sound. She rose quietly and looked out her window. The sun was not quite up yet, looking at her clock the hands rested at 4:30. From the chair she heard a soft chuckle, and turned grinning. "I had a feeling that you were watching me!" Erik raised an eyebrow, "Oh? And how would you have come to that conclusion?" Diana laughed and sat in his lap. "I've told you Erik! I know you to well!"  
  
She blinked with confusion as a deep sigh shook his form, "Erik? Are you alright?" he looked into her eyes and smiled. "Alright? I've never been so happy... just to have you near me..." Even as he smiled, a tear ran down his cheek. With the gentleness one can only give their lover, Diana kissed the tear away. "Some one has caused you so much pain, I wish I could free you from it..." She gripped him more tightly as his lips closed over hers. The embrace felt so right... she wanted to merge her soul with his and never move again. "It's hard to believe you're not just a dream, oh Diana..."  
With her hands she held his face, bringing his lips to hers. He responded to kiss her, and was surprised when she stayed him with her hand. "There's something you must know." Her eyes were wet with her emotion. She took a breath, laying her cheek against his mask. "I swear to you, from this day on, I will always be faithful only to you." His attempt to speak was swallowed by her kiss, when it broke her eyes once more met his. "I will never leave you, I love you Erik." He buried himself in her arms, his breath soft on her throat. "I love you, forever, with all my soul."  
  
A dim light shone in his eyes as he pulled away, a rip threw his soul... what have I been thinking... oh god... what have I done? ...I...I cannot... why did I even try to believe...I'm letting an Angel condemn herself to hell! "Erik? What is it? What's wrong?" His eyes refused to meet hers, a small sound, almost a sob, buried in the back of his throat. "I... Gods I want to be with you... I want it so badly that I could..." gently she reached out, trying to turn his face to her. His hands covered hers, squeezing gently. "Why can't you be with me? Erik, look at me, please! Why?" His head hung in defeat, he turned to face her gaze. In his eye's... such pain... "You have never seen my face, and that is why you can look at me as you do... feel for me... anything other than..." He stood, pulling away from her hands, from the painful warmth of her touch.  
"I love you Diana, but I also loved Christine... and her reaction to my... to my face..."  
  
With wide eyes she rose beside him, "Your face... what lies beneath the mask... your going to show me, aren't you." He moved farther off, his hand rose, running over the mask, tracing its lines. "Yes, I'm going to take off the mask." He turned to her, his form ridged, daring her to come closer. Gently, her hand reached out, retracing the cool curves. Her eyes met his. "And once I do, I will never be able to see you again... I hurt those I love Diana, all I can do for you, my last kindness, will be to end your illusions. Reveal the creature that loves you, before I let you go." Her eyes stared threw his, searching, "I will not run. Do you think I haven't been told the stories? Your title, your temper, neither of these scared me away. To love someone... the way I feel for you... show me your face Erik, show me what you are afraid to have me see! I, will, not, run." Tears ran down her cheeks, "I love your soul..."  
  
Their forms merging in the hallway shadows, Erik led Diana onto the roof of the opera. Together, with shadows entwined, the lovers sat. As the fading light played against their forms, two pairs of hands, one steady, one shaking, removed the mask from the infamous phantom. A moments pause, then, gently, a soft hands touch. Diana fingers caressed Eric's face. Tender whispers, a gentle sigh, the two forms wrapped themselves into one. With a laugh, they tossed a shining object into the air. From the roof it clattered down the buildings face, landing on the opera's doorstep.  
  
From the opera's steps, a porcelain mask stared into eternity. 


	9. Act Two

**_Act Two_**

On September 23, 1865, three months after the confrontation between the Viscount & the Phantom, the opera company was finally being given the break that it deserved. The slow season had arrived, a time for the opera to hone its skills and rest its workers. Even our managers, Andrea and Firmin, saw the necessity of this break. And needless to say, that is a rare occurrence! Diana and Erik continued their secret lessons, whatever lay between them blossoming into promise. The sky was dark, the sun yet to rise above the roofs of Paris asa lone figure slipped from the shadows. A chilled breeze blew from the north, and thick flakes began to fall, coating horse and rider as they made their way to the cemetery.

Silence, the tombs held their own council. The black cloak disturbed little as the cowled figure moved deeper in. He paused, getting his barring's and turning a different way. A rose of deep hue, tied with black ribbonslipped from his hand and into the snow.

Alone, with the flakes falling down from above, Erik knelt before Christine's grave. Several white roses lay at her tomb; his one red seemed to contrast sharply. The golden eyes shut; a deep sigh raked him, as if to shake his soul. They opened again, amber met marble, "I… I should have come sooner." A hand reached out, felt the chill of the stone even through the leather. "…when I heard that you had died. I did not come, I… I had not forgiven you yet." The gently carved angles gazed down in silence. "I wasn't brave enough, to forgive, to let it go… I was too weak. I've always been too weak. But I fooled you, didn't I. You neverdid seeme as anything but strong… I'm sorry…" The wind blew through his cape and seemed to pierce something inside. "I know that you sent Diana to me, she reminds me so much of you…" He ran his hands over the marble angels that guarded the door. A sad smile traced his jaw, and then faded into weak acceptance. "…I will never stop loving you Christine. I will always thank you for the gifts you gave me, even if they were painful when I received them… Oh…Christine…"

He raised his eyes upward, watching the dance of the falling snow. A swirl of snow flurries coated him; his rose was covered with it, the red turning white. Erik watched in silence as its color turned to match the other flowers. His eyes once more rose heavenward; "Christine?" The whisper grew in strength as the wind carried it away. "I have moved on with life, but not all have. Give them comfort and peace Christine, they will learn where to look, to find you…." From a nearby tree a fluttering was heard, Erik turned in time to see a lone dove fly past him and perch on the tomb's roof.

"She still wants us to get along, you can feel it here, the peace." Roul came out from behind a nearby tree, his cloak painted with the snow. Erik hissed softly, "You would think that of all people, I would know when I am being watched." Roul looked up, his eyes on the dove. "I don't think it's by accident that we're both here, right now." Erik rose to his feet, and despite his better judgment his gaze strayed to the dove on the small tomb's icy roof. He spoke softly, as if to himself. "She is still watching over us… I can feel her presence here, as if I could reach out and touch her." He turned when he heard a muffled sob escape from Roul's shaking form. He had turned away, as if embarrassed by his emotion. The amber eyes softened, deepened with shared pain. Almost timidly, he moved over to where the viscount stood shaking, and lay his hand on the other man's shoulder. "She doesn't want you to grieve anymore…"

Roul looked with surprise at The Phantom, his mouth turned slightly at the courners, a weak, soft smile."…I… its good to have someone who understands, this, this is more than I would have done for you." The specter did not reply, but if anything his hand tightened. Roul looked hard, deep into the lion eyes that Christine had described with such a mixture of fright and awe. "It's a long walk back to the opera, why don't you come to my town house for a while? There's sure to be a warm fire." Erik's eyes widened at the invitation. He seemed unsure, nearly spooking when the viscount reached out and, just as timidly as he had, placed a forgiving palm on his shoulder. "…That would be, fine. A fire sounds fine." Roul smiled, for the first time in a long time, he looked forward to getting home.

As the two men exited the cemetery, they were unaware of the spirit that watched them. With the two men she loved healing and safe, she smiled. Her form and wings dissolving back into the snow.

"I will always love you….."

"What is it Diana? Why are you so… for lack of a better word, springy?" Peter watched Diana with confusion as she threw her arms around him. She had been walking on clouds all day, and for the life of him, Peter could not discover why! "Peter! I want to tell you, but you must promise to keep it a secret!" Peter raised an eyebrow and shrugged, "Okay… so what's this big secret?" His expression earned him an amused glance from a passing stagehand. "Well, you know that my Birthday is coming up." Peter nodded with a smile. "I haven't forgotten!"

Diana nodded and continued. "I think that Kirsty may be planning a party, I overheard someone talking about it!" Peter smiled behind his hand, "So what's the secret then?" Diana looked at him with a sly smile. "Well, Kirsty doesn't realize that I know… and I don't want her to find out. I had to tell someone! Will you keep my secret Peter?" Peter laughed and shook his head. "Is that all? I was starting to think that by the way you were acting, well, you might be getting married!"

Diana laughed, "When that happens, I promise that you will be the first to know!" With a quick hug, Diana disappeared down the hallway. Peter smiled and sighed, "It will look really odd, seeing my little sister get married… who knows? Maybe I'll be married by then myself." Chuckling under his breath, Peter headed of in the other direction. "Me, Married… now that will be odd!"

Diana ran into her room and closed the door behind her, turning she found herself in Erik's warm Embrace. With a happy sigh she sank against him. "How was your visit?" Erik smiled softly and sat down on the bed, Diana lay against him. "It was wonderful, it… it almost feels like a weight has been taken of my shoulders…" He kissed her gently, "You were right, I should have gone sooner." Diana smiled and lay her head in his lap. A sharp meow of complaint caught her attention. Phantom sat on the floor looking pitiful. "Oh come up here silly! I haven't forgotten about you!" The cat leapt onto the bed and stretched out, looking at her with pleading eyes. With a smile Diana stroked the creature, her attention returning to Erik. He smiled at the cat's antics and slyly, pulled a piece of yarn from his pocket. Instantly Phantom sprang at the string, pulling it from Erik's grip and batting it about.

"While I was there, an odd thing happened… the Viscount was watching me, and I didn't realize it." Diana's eyes grew wide; Erik motioned her to allow him to continue. "We spoke, briefly, and I felt… it's hard to say, we could speak without anger towards each other… as if Christine was there, helping us…"

His eyes shone with a mixture of emotions, one of them confusion. His hand held hers tightly. "I think that now, Christine may find peace…" Diana squeezed his hand, her eyes looking into his. "I'm sure she will… she will dwell in heaven forever." Erik crumbled into her embrace, his head against her heart.

"I think, if I hear one more word about bonuses or raises, I will promptly proceed to vomit!" Andrea nodded to his partner as they looked over the payroll, his brow furrowing in frustration. "Do they expect us to pay them during this break!" Firmin shrugged and returned to his paperwork. "We lose more money during this period of the year than during the rest of the year combined!" The papers were sent flying from the desk by a sharp gust of wind, in a panic, both managers chased the sheets about the room. "Managers! What is the cause of all this chaos! Don't you know how to shut a window?"

Madam Giry ran across the room and closed the shutters. Deprived of the wind, the papers sank lifelessly to the floor. With an annoyed look, she picked the sheets from the ground and put them on the desk. Firmin blinked, "Madam, have you ever given thought to becoming a secretary?" He received for his comment an annoyed look from Giry, and an amused look from Andrea. "Monsieur's, you do need a secretary. However, I can promise! That will never be me!" Firmin chuckled and sat back down. With a sigh, Andrea joined him.

A knock on the door drew their attention, with an exasperated gesture Giry opened the door. A stranger stood in the doorframe; his dark eyes scanned the room casually. Andrea jumped to his feet, "And who the hell are you?" A smirk ran across the man's face, his eyes seemed to glimmer with an inner fire. "Forgive me, I forgot for a moment that I need to introduce myself." Firmin & Andrea exchanged looks, their eyebrows raised. "I am Count Emorenth, perhaps you've heard of me?" Firmin suddenly blinked, "Count Emorenth? What brings you to our opera house!" Andrea gave his partner a confused look, Firmin shot him back a withering glance.

"My love of the theater has attracted me to several places over the past few years… Your establishment rather jumped out at me when I came to Paris." His smile seemed charming, yet there was something hidden in his face that warned of danger. With seeming ease he admired the curtains and thick carpets. "So if I am not intruding, I would like to walk about your building. To see what there is to see." Once again Andrea looked to his partner, and fumbled at seeing his partner nodding like a puppet. "Please! Feel free to look around wherever you want!"

The count bowed to them, a sly smile graced his lips. With a polite nod to madam Giry, he vanished out the door. Andrea glared at Firmin, "Now will someone tell me what the Hell that was all about! Who is that man!" Firmin smiled and shook his head. "I'm surprised that you haven't heard of him! The Count is a wealthy and rather eccentric patron of the finest arts, the kind of person you tend to look for!" Andrea looked confused; he leaned back in his chair. "...Wealthy you say?" Firmin laughed, "Oh god Andrea, you are a true card! Yes, he is very wealthy. I had heard that he was in Paris, but I had no idea that he would come here! We could use to have a patron of his status."

A slight chough from the corner reminded the management that Giry was still present. "I don't like him, monsieur's there's something about him that I don't trust. I've heard that he has interests in things he should not." Firmin nodded, his eyes returning to his paperwork. "He's eccentric, there's no doubting that. However he would most definitely be a good patron to have." Madam Giry shook her head, worry plainly seen in her eyes. "I'm going to keep an eye on him monsieur's, pray that my suspicions are ill founded."

Peter Gray raised an eyebrow at the sight of a stranger prowling about backstage. The man had an air about him that hinted at cockiness, his gait plainly spoke of it. Peter shook his head, whoever this man was, he had no business going backstage. With a sigh he turned back to the prop he was suppose to be moving. The giant Elephant seemed to smile down at him. The darn thing had to weigh at least a metric ton! Where on earth were the two other stagehands that were going to help him!

"Looks heavy, are you going to try to move it alone?" The man stood behind him, his eyebrows raised. Peter shook his head, "No, I'm waiting for two others." Peter avoided eye contact, hoping that it would cause the man to lose interest. It did not, "Perhaps you can help me, I've heard that this theater has a legend of some sort… Do you know it?" A deep feeling of annoyance swept through Peter, didn't this stranger have anything better to do than bother him? "Are you referring to the Phantom?"

The eyes of the stranger seemed to sparkle at the answer, "Yes, I believe that's the one. Do you know it?" Peter nodded, "Everyone at the opera knows that story." The realization that this man could be a patron of the opera finally occurred to him. Inwardly Peter winced; any rudeness on his part to this man could prove disastrous. "Would you be so kind as to tell me this story?" To Peters surprise the man helped by putting his shoulder against the prop. With the added strength both men pushed against the prop, slowly, the wheals began to turn.

Peter laughed as they shoved the Mighty Elephant into the wall. "I didn't think that two men could move that giant thing!" The man nodded, "How do they do that during a performance?" Both exchanged amused looks, Peter let down his guard a little. Perhaps this stranger wasn't so bad. "I'm going to chew out the others who were supposed to help me, thank you for your help." He received a smile, both men leaned back against the prop to catch their breath. "So where were we? Oh yes! I had just asked you about that story!"

Peter nodded, "Yes, the Phantom of the Opera… I remember when I was first told that story." The man nodded, and then extended his hand. "Forgive me! I didn't introduce myself again! I am Count Emorenth," He smiled, "But my friends call me Jonathan." Peter realized that this was an invitation and grinned, taking the counts hand. "Pleasure to meet you! I'm Peter Grey." Jonathan's smile widened, "You're not by any chance related to Diana Grey are you?" Peter nodded and Jonathan shook his hand, "How perfect! I hope to meet with Diana later today! It's a thrill to meet you Peter! Truly it is!"

Both men sat down in the empty theater, Peter tried to remember how he had first heard the story. "Now lets see… oh yes, I had just joined the company and was being shown about the catwalk!" Jonathan nodded, "How did it look up there?" Peter smiled, "Well, let's just say a fear of heights would prove unfortunate!" Both laughed, Jonathan pushing a hair from his eye. "In all honesty, I can see why!" Peter thought back, "Well, the stagehands were showing me the ropes. I suppose that, out of the blue, I wondered aloud how my sister Diana was doing." Peter smiled, "So then a stagehand asked me if she sang, and I said yes…"

A troubled look spread over Peter's face, "So then the man said (If it's the phantoms will, she'll do well) or something like that." Jonathan mused over this quietly, gesturing for Peter to continue. "I remember asking, what's the phantom? And the answer I received was this." He took a deep breath, "The phantom Prowls the theater, and he owns box five on the grand tier, when his orders are not obeyed, terrible things happen."

When Jonathan took his leave, Peter found himself with a bad feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. Something in his new friend eyes had worried him… he seemed too interested in the ghost. With a sigh he brushed away the feeling, there was still work that needed to be done.

From the shadows, Madam Giry watched quietly. (This is worse than I thought… I must inform O.G.! This patron is a danger to us all!) With a rustling of skirts she disappeared into the shadows. She was unaware that Jonathan had seen her retreat. With a smile he followed, as silent as her shadow behind her. He watched with interest as she pressed something on the wall, it triggered a reaction. With a groan of protest the wall opened. The ballet mistress lit her lantern and vanished inside.

To Jonathan's dismay, the wall sealed up behind her. (She must have used a lever on the inside.) His thoughts wandered past the wall, to where she was going. With a soft chuckle the count leaned against the wall. The device she had used was in his sight, he knew that, but what had she pressed? (Oh well, she's eluded me this time. She protects you well Phantom, but I will find you.)


	10. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Diana lay on her bed, her fingers tracing the patterns in Phantom's milky coat. Today had been as uneventful and relaxing as any she could have hoped for. She smiled as Phantom stretched under her hand, her paws batting playfully at Diana's fingers. A sound from her door caused her to look up, Phantom seized the opportunity and caught her. "You've just gotten to good at this Phantom! Ouch! Okay! You win! Stop nibbling on me!' Diana remembered the door and looked up. "Coming! I'll be with you in a moment!" Freeing her fingers she ran across her room. However, when she opened the door, there was no one there. Instead a note lay on the floor.

With confusion she returned to her bed, the letter in hand. "How strange, who do you think it's from?" Phantom merely looked at the note and began trying to bat it to death. Diana smiled and shook her head, "Since you're so feisty, why don't you go catch mice and be helpful?" Phantom meowed in response and sank down into her lap. Diana laughed and broke the seal, then removed the letter.

Dear Diana Grey,

I am an admirer of your beautiful voice. I fear that I am yet to see you perform myself, what I have heard of you, (I've gathered from reliable sources) is good. If what they say is true, you sing like an angel in heaven (on stage.) My intentions are to become one of this Opera's principle patrons, and I wish to meet with you. Perhaps we can become acquaintances? I have the privilege to say that I have already met your brother.

If you would like to meet, I have arranged a diner reservation for promptly 6:00 this evening. The location is at the Parie Du Lurex, I hope to see you there. Please wear a red flower in your hair so that I will know you. I will be wearing the same kind of flower on my breast.

I wait expectantly for you,

Count Emorenth, Jonathan

Diana winced, (oh the timing this man has… at that same time Erik and I were going to go for a walk by the river…) It was obvious that she had to go. If this "Jonathan" was planning on becoming a patron, it would be a very poor decision not to attend. Diana sighed, "Oh… shoot! I hope Erik will understand…" Diana looked through her dresser for something that would go well with a red… plant. The dresses all seemed to mock her, not one of them would work. With a sigh she sank back onto her bed. (Some days you wish you were a lady in red…)

The mirror shimmered and opened, Erik entered the room. To Diana's surprise he seemed worried. His motions were predatory, agitated, and his eyes narrowed. "Erik? What's wrong?" He turned toward her, placing his discomfort behind him. "It's not important Diana, Are you almost ready?" Diana shook her head, "Erik I'm sorry… I've just received this note…" Diana handed him the piece of paper. She watched as Erik quickly scanned the page, his eyes met hers. "I see. This is the same man… he is becoming quite the bother… perhaps Madam Giry was right."

Diana moved to his side, confused. But before she could speak Erik had pulled her into his embrace, his mouth on hers. With a happy sigh she wrapped her arms around him, nuzzling into the crook of his shoulder when his lips released hers. "I'll try to be back soon…" Erik laughed softly, his hand running threw her thick curls. "I know that, try to have a good time. I'll be here when you get back. If I'm not, the opera popular is probably on fire." Reluctantly they released their holds. Diana blinked, "…Was that, a half attempted joke? Hmmm… what are you up to?"

With a smile Erik vanished into the shadows. Diana turned back to her wardrobe, a flash of red caught her eye, (of course. It would have to show itself now that I've destroyed any semblance of order in my wardrobe!) And she pulled out the dress. It was one of her older ones, and the inside seams showed wear… However the exterior seemed just fine. Diana pulled it on. (A bit tight at the bust, when did I last wear this thing?) Despite the minor discomfort, it fit. "Well, what do you think Phantom?" Her cat looked at her out of half shut eyes.

It was obvious that the pet had no interest in what she had to say. Diana sighed and removed a carnation from her vase, she trimmed it down and pined it to her dress. It would simply never stay in her hair, few things did. Checking her reflection in the mirror she paused. The sapphire rose on her throat clashed painfully, she bit her bottom lip in agitation. Since she had received it the jewel had not left her throat. It almost seemed to symbolize their love. Diana smiled, (I wish we could spend this evening together Erik...) She was drawn from her thoughts by the sound of another knock on her door. Cautious, she pulled her wrap on, unsure who would be wanting her now. She opened the door.

Peter smiled at her from the other side. "Diana, you will not believe this!" Diana sighed, relieved. Her brother's ecstatic grin threatened to pull a laugh from her throat. "What has gotten you so excited? You're grinning from ear to ear!" Peter entered the room, shutting the door behind him.

"I was minding my own business, waiting for my friends to help me move a large prop, and I met a new patron!" Diana raised an eyebrow, was there a connection here? "Was this patron's name, Count Emorenth, by any chance?" Peter blinked, smiled. "Yes it was! He said that he wanted to meet you… has he met you yet?" Diana shook her head no. "I have not met the Count yet, but I will be dining with him this evening. He sent me that note." Peter followed her pointing finger to her desk, picked up the letter and read the contents. "I think you will have a good time, when we spoke I could hear in his tone his excitement about meeting you."

Peter looked up when he heard his sisters sigh, a line of worry creased his face. "Unless you're not feeling well, are you alright?" Diana smiled and nodded, "I'm fine Peter, it's just that I had other plans tonight." Peter nodded, he had always understood her. "I can tell him that you're preoccupied if you need me to." Diana shook her head no, a smile playing across her face. "Thank you Peter, but that would be a bad idea and you know it." Peter shrugged, "I guess I'm just a bad influence!"

Diana entered the restaurant; I knew it had to be her. She wore the flower I had suggested. It seemed a foolish touch now; I would have recognized her without it. She seemed more to float than to walk in my eyes, was such grace and beauty meant for mortals? How could it be? "Count Emorenth?" Her voice was pure and sweet, even when she was only speaking. "I am Diana Grey, thank you for inviting me to dine with you."

"No, thank you Diana for coming! Please, take a seat." She smiled as she sat down across from me, her emerald eyes sparkling in the candlelight… she was made to be seen by candlelight. "I hope that this abrupt offer didn't disrupt your schedule, but I fear that from the moment I arrived here I have been eager to meet with you." Her eyes are deep… I wonder what she's thinking... "It was really no hassle at all Count, I am always happy to meet with admirers."

I couldn't help but chuckle, the way she said that! There's not a vain bone in this woman's body! She seems confused, unsure of what I find so amusing… It's more than just that little one, I can tell you had had other plans this evening. Something you do not wish to discuss? That's just fine. "May I ask what your pleasure is tonight?" She smiles and looked at the menu. "Well… the roast pheasant looks wonderful, what do you think?" I smile, it's the cheapest bird on the menu, don't want to feel too indebted? Charming, perfectly charming and yet… annoying. Still, something about this woman simply takes ones breath away… "The pheasant looks scrumptious, a wonderful choice!"

I summon a waiter to our side and placed our order, deciding to dine on the pheasant as well. Our Champaign is poured and we are left in peace. "Do you come to places like this often, Count?" she seems stunned by the quality of everything around her. "I only visit such restaurants when the occasion is fitting, and this is certainly such an occasion." She laughs and I could swear that my heart melted from the sound. Such a charming creature, not an unpleasant or homely hair on her head! Would Aphrodite come into mortal flesh, would she be found lacking in comparison? Perhaps. Of course I do hold my judgment of beauty as rather lofty, I am not easily impressed. Our orders arrive shortly, we have a casual dinner conversation as we dine. She seems interested to know about the places I had visited, the people I had seen. In fact, she seems very interested in anything that will keep the topic of our conversation off of her.

The count watches me as I eat. Something about him puts all my senses on alert. He is… charming, gracious, and well mannered. However, I don't know why… but something is amiss. I feel his eyes bore threw me, almost as if I am the bird we were eating… "What is on your mind? If, I may be so bold to ask." His question startles me. "Well, my brother claimed that you two had… an interesting conversation." I do not want to become the center of this discussion, there's just something about him… it sends shivers down my spine, and not pleasant shivers either.

"Ah yes, he was kind enough to tell me about the opera Ghost myth." My throat tightens, "Oh? What did he say?" The count reclines into his chair and swirls the Champaign in his glass. "Well, he told me what he knew. He explained how he had been told the story, but there wasn't much else that he could say about it." Inside I sigh with relief, the thought that the count wants to know about Erik is unnerving. "Did you enjoy speaking with him? I have known Peter to tell a good story from time to time."

The count nods, a smile crosses his lips. "It was truly a pleasure speaking to him. He struck me as an honest and hard working person, and he seems to love what he does." I cannot help but smile. "He does love it, since we were children this has been what he wanted. He would always tell me, "without the stagehands, a show simply couldn't go on." The count laughs, I liked the sound of his laugh. It relieves some of his intimidating presence. "He is quite right! The stagehands are as essential to a company as the stage they perform on."

His smile, warm and inviting washes over me. I laugh silently at myself. So this is what all your worrying was for! This is a wonderfully courteous and pleasant man! What were you so afraid of? He stood and in the ways of a true gentleman, offered me his hand. "With all these people dancing I'm starting to feel left out. Would you..?" I smiled and take his hand, "I would love to."

After that the evening passed by quickly, I learned that Jonathan was a wonderful dancer. We spent almost an eternity on the dance floor, Several other couples murmured their approval as we passed by. "Such a lovely couple!" "How lucky they are to have found each other!" "Obviously these two are meant to be!" I couldn't help but smile sadly, how could these bystanders know? They had no way of knowing that my soul mate, the man I love, would never be able to be seen in public with me… for fear of his very life.

Jonathan must have seen my face because I saw concern sweep over his. "Diana, is everything alright? You seem upset." I shook my head, my heart warming with his concern. "Yes, everything's wonderful Jonathan. I fear my mind was only wandering to other matters…" He smiled gently and nodded. "I understand, the world can be a cruel place Diana, I hope that life has treated you well. If not, I will go and complain to Mr. Life right now!" I couldn't help but laugh, the man was a card. Playing his comic side to cheer me.

"You're very sweet Jonathan," a thought suddenly struck me. "What time is it?" He pulled out his pocket watch and flipped it open. "It appears to be… about eleven." He shut it with a snap and returned it to his pocket. "How time flies when one's having fun!" mentally I kicked myself! Was it really so late? I had promised Erik that I would be brief! "Oh Jonathan I'm sorry! I need to be back at the opera by now! I lost track of time!"

He was disappointed, I could tell. However he smiled, and simply nodded. "I can get you back to the opera popular in no time! Forgive me for keeping you so late, I must have lost track of time as well…" We returned to our table and Jonathan paid our bill. The waiter hurried of and returned with our things; Jonathan donned his coat and helped me into mine. His carriage was waiting at the door, we sat, and I faintly heard him tell the driver to take us to the opera. The night was late, and I was tired having danced so long.

The horse's hooves on the cobblestones were the only sound, Jonathan lay his arm over my shoulder, his body was warm so I didn't protest. When we reached my destination, he offered to accompany me to my room. "Are you sure you want to go in alone?" I smiled, "I'll be fine Jonathan, thank you for tonight." He smiled, bowed, and paused. His eyes were looking over my shoulder. I turned and saw Erik's form faintly standing out of the shadows. A warning, he was sending us both a clear warning. "Sleep well Diana, I will leave you in the care of your friend." He nodded to the shadows and smiled. "I hope to see you again, very soon."


	11. Chapter Nine

I moved forward, waiting until the carriage had gone. That feeling was back, infuriating, and sharp, rising up from inside to bare its fangs at the surface as I felt my lips draw into a snarl. Jealousy. He had held her! He had been staking a claim on what I had earned! That fool… stop Erik, no, stop. You're overreacting… let it go. The fool, for that is what he is, would not know she is already courting… had no way of knowing… let it go, breath, breath… there. Finished. Well, not finnished, butclose enough. I move forward and hold Diana in my arms, savoring the feel of her pressed against me. She relaxes instantly, going soft, she had not seen my struggle. I'm glad of it. "I'm sorry it's so late Erik, I lost track of time…" I smile (she's falling asleep against me, heh.) "Did you have a good time?" She nods into my shoulder; a murmured yes reaches my ear. It flares up again, that temper! I roar it down. Gently I pick her up, she smiles and lay her head against my chest. "I wish you had been there…"

I couldn't help but sigh as she snuggled against me. (What have I done in life to deserve such trust?) The hallways were dark, the rest of the cast having long since retired to their rooms within or outside the opera. As I walked towards our destination, I reflected over my thoughts about this 'Count' that had suddenly entered our scene. He had seen me, I could tell from the way his breaths had increased. He had wanted to see me, why? (There is something deeply unsettling about this stranger...) "What are you thinking about Erik?"

I looked down into Diana's eyes, was there anything in the world more precious to me? "It's nothing Diana, were almost there." I pushed open her door with my shoulder, laying her on the bed before reaching for the matches and candle. "No, it's alright Erik, I don't mind the dark." I smiled, amusement in my eyes. "Oh? I recall that you had serious anxieties about the darkness." She smiled at me, taking my hand in hers. "You taught me not to fear the dark Erik. Will you stay with me tonight?"

I sighed, "I wish I could Diana, but there are certain matters I must attend to." I squeezed her hand before releasing it. "I promise to be here when you wake up." I move to the door, feeling her eyes watching me. "Goodnight Erik." I smile, "Goodnight, Diana."

The Ghost was silent, his pace increased as the hallways leading to the stage came into view. Another set of feet fell in step behind him, telling of Madam Giry's presence as she too, moved silently. They move towards the main hall, the sound of rustling skirts the only noise to pierce the quiet. The front doors of the opera slide open, and the viscount looks about cautiously. Nothing stirs. He smiles to himself, and removing his hat then moves with confidence into the theater. Daroga looks up from his seat on the stage when the strange assembly enters the opera's heart. "It would appear that we are all accounted for, please, take your seats."

Daroga smiles quietly, takes a seat in the front row, and the others follow his example. "So what have we all gathered to discuss?"

The Phantom hisses deep in his throat, pacing the stage, whether he is excited or agitated is hard to say. He finally stills, and turns his back to us. "It seems a rather bizarre member of the upper crust, has taken a liking to the opera house." Roul raises an eyebrow, "I fail to see the problem here." Giry shook her head, her eyes seeking the Phantoms. "How can you not see the problem! I have watched this man carefully, he is trouble if I've ever seen it. …to be frank, viscount, he somewhat reminds me of you." Roul tries to look offended, he only succeeds in looking amused. "Then there is even less need to worry! After all, I'm harmless!"

The Ghost chuckles. "…Are you now? Good to know Viscount. You may be harmless, he, is not." Roul rises from his seat. "What has you both convinced he is a danger? What is he a danger to?" Golden eyes shut, ashamed. "…to me. He is a danger to me, that is all." Roul falls still. "I don't know why you are here, Viscount. I did not send for you. How you even knew to come is a mystery to me… why are you here?" Roul shook his head. "Madam Giry sent for me… I think I see why." Nadir looks at the ballet mistress, eyebrow raised. Giry clears her throat. "I… I merely thought he might be able to tell us more about this Count, that's all. If this has proved an inconvenience monsieur, than I urge you to forgive me, and take your leave."

Giry looks away, Daroga sighs, Roul seems unsure of whether to stay or go. "I fail to see what we can do about this situation, if I may get back on track. The company managers are going full fledged to grab the Count as a patron." Giry moved from where she was sitting and picked up a scrap of paper from the floor. "You must be aware of this Erik, can he not be dissuaded?" The eyes flash, then still, "No Daroga, he cannot be dissuaded. He spotted me tonight. He has the look of a hunter, but I will not be the prey." Roul sits back down. "I think I will stay, thank you. Don't look at me that way Phantom, I have a debt to pay, and I will pay it." Erik stands still, stunned. "A debt? What debt! You owe me nothing Viscount! Let's have no mistakes made on that!" Roul smiles, "Oh? I still need to repay you, and I need not say for what. Christine knows it, as do you. Say what you will, I will not be swayed."

Erik stays still, but finally shakes his head amazed. "…it is your decision viscount. As long as you understand, I guaranty you no protection. Throw your lot with me, and you will risk everything in time. You accept this?" Roul nodds, "For the will to live, for a friend of Christine's, I will take such a risk." Nadir coughs, "If I may return to our focus once more?" The others nod. "Now, Erik, what are you planning? It will not be easy to fight a man of his stature, and I do hope, that we will avoid violence. So what shall we do? It seems our options are few."

I nod, Daroga is right, in a way. But perhaps… even without violence. "I am aware that there is little it seems we can do, however we have more power here than I think you realize." All three returned their attention back to me. Daroga seems especially interested. "So what is this untapped power that you speak of? I'm yet to discover one." I can't help it, I chuckle.

The viscount sighs, and looks up. "I also have no idea what power you are referring to Phantom." His eyes are troubled. "I see where you have some power, as well as where I stand... but what about The Persian and madam Giry?" In the darkness, perhaps my imagination runs a little wild, but my! Aren't we the perfect group of conspirators? "It's very simple really, just think about it." Their confused expressions are beginning to annoy me, exasperation etches itself in my form. "Madam Giry, is in charge of all the ballet dancers. Daroga has the trust of every stagehand and helper. You viscount know your influence, and I, mine. Do you see now?"

Daroga leans back into his chair, a smile playing over his features. "You have a point there Erik." I nod, "Together, we have an amazing amount of influence!" Madam Giry remains silent, then skeptical. "The Count has quite an influence himself. Do we really want to pit ourselves against that?"

The ghost falls still, a sigh hisses slowly from his throat. "Commonly, I would say no. The risks are quite high; make no mistakes about that where it is concerned." A sound echoes throughout the room, a clang, like metal being dropped. Three of the four fall still, the Persian ducks. The last disappears into the shadows. Not a sound, not a breath. Nothing. Timidly, the shadow stirs, releasing the specter within. "…is it clear Giry?" The ballet mistress stands, looks about slowly. "…no, we must move."

There is a soft brush of wood and cloth. The door to box five shuts with a soft click. Inside the dark is left undisturbed. A thud, and a curse of pain. "Watch yourself Viscount, that's my innocent chair you're attacking."

"A chair? It felt like a wall!"

"Then that is my innocent wall you're attacking! Enough! Is all still?"

They grow still, finally a whisper. "…we should be all right now. Where were we?" Giry sighs.

"O.G? You do realize that this is a battle we may not win."

He smiles behind the mask.

"Well, we still have to try."

I woke the next morning to the sound of gentle breaths, the sunlight filtered threw my window and across the mask of the man who lay beside me. I smiled, my finger twirling lazily in his hair. "Erik? Are you awake?" a half murmured protest reached my ears. "What was that? I couldn't hear you." One eye opened and regarded me with mild annoyance. "dosh syou ave any ides sthwat time its ith..?" I giggle and wrapped my arms around his waist.

"So Diana, how did you sleep?" I look at him and laugh, "Oh so now you're awake! I feel so honored!" His smile of annoyance was so amusing! I know that he knew I was only joking; his eyes were clear and soft. If he had actually been annoyed there would have been a spark in them. "You're in a very playfull mood this morning. I take it you slept well?"

Erik and I shared our normal morning routine, I got dressed while he waited outside. He came back in when I had finished and we agreed to have our lessons at the same time as usual… but something seemed amiss… Erik was not mentioning anything about the many hours we commonly would spend together after lunch. He seemed tense, almost anxious, and excited… what on earth is happening? "Erik? Is something happening? You seem, tense, for lack of a better word." The smile he had been wearing faded. "It's nothing Diana." I could see right threw that maneuver, I knew how he thought. "Are you sure? Maybe I can help?"

The smile returned and he laughed softly, "Perhaps there is a way for you to help, don't distract me with your beauty!" He dodged the tackle I aimed at him and grabbed me before I hit the floor. "Women in corsets shouldn't roughhouse!" I smiled sneakily, "Oh really? I don't think you know very much about women! Or corsets, for that matter." He scoffed playfully and turned to leave. "Are you sure everything's alright Erik? If there's something you want to tell me…" His eyes were soft and warm as he looked at me, and I felt myself on the inside reaching out to him. "Don't worry about me Diana, I can handle myself."

I nodded, of course he could! He's Erik! There's nothing in the world that can touch him if he doesn't let it! I already hear the voice in the back of my head saying, "Now here you go worrying about nothing again:" I watched him vanish into the mirror and left my room. The opera house was quiet this morning and I made my way to breakfast without seeing another soul. There was a sense of uneasiness that seemed to fill the air wherever I walked. I looked around the dining room and saw that I was not the only person feeling this way, every member of the ballet were huddled into a protective group. The stagehands were behaving in very much the same manner, whispers circulated through the tense air.

"Diana! There you are! You have to hear this!" Kirsty ran over and handed me a slice of bread, her eyes wide with fear. "What is it Kirsty? Why is everyone acting this way!" Kirsty took my hand and pulled me into a corner. "They say the Ghost has returned! And that he is in a rage!" I shook my head in shock, Erik in a rage? I couldn't even picture it! My traitorous memory returned to the confrontation with the Viscount, I remembered the power in Erik's form, and I shuddered. "People say it's the fault of the Count Emorenth!" Here I made her stop. "Why would the Ghost be angry with Jonathan? He's done nothing but be kind to everyone here!"

Kirsty shrugged, "All I heard is that the Ghost doesn't want him to become a patron!" I sat down into a chair, was this what had been bothering Erik? He hadn't seemed angry when he had left me this morning… "Kirsty, how does anyone know the Phantom is angry?" Kirsty stared at me in mute shock. "By the note of course! The notes that are written in blood! Andrea and Firmin found one on there desk this morning, it's been posted in the hallway for everyone to see!" With renewed strength, she grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the room. "Common! I'll show it to you!"

We ran down the hallways to the front foyer, a crowd was gathered around a note tacked to the wall. "See! There it is!" I moved threw the crowd to get a better look.

To my incapable Managers,

There is a stranger that you have allowed to wander in our midst! A foolish newcomer has come to Paris, a man who threatens the delicate balance of our coexistence! Weed him out from amongst you! The Count Emorenth is not to be received kindly within my Opera house! He is not to be accepted as friend or acquaintance by any within these walls! If these demands are not met, then I need not tell you what will occur…

I remain your observant specter,

O.G.

Also, have this notice posted at the grand foyer for the entire cast and crew to see. Remember, I am always watching.

Andrea sighed and sank down onto the over chair before the fireplace, with his right hand he wiped the sweat from his brow. Firmin looked over at his partner and sighed, "We have no choice Andrea, we can't risk another disaster of that magnitude." Andrea nodded, his head bowed with defeat. "I know that Firmin, but why must he choose to forbid the valuable patrons!" Firmin shrugged. Both the managers looked up as Roul and the Persian entered the room. "Is it true what they're saying has happened!"

Andrea nodded, the Persian and Roul both exchanged glances. "What are you planning to do managers?" Firmin laughed, "What do you think we can do? We have no choice but to comply with his demands! I think that this has been proven more than once." Andrea let out a frustrated groan and walked to the window, "So much stress isn't good for a man of my age… perhaps we should follow Lefevre's example…" Firmin blinked, "Are you proposing that we sell out?" Andrea nodded, his eyes light for the first time in a long time. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm proposing! And I know the exact person to sell to!"

So it came to pass that over the next few months arrangements were discussed, prices were set, and the opera house was purchased.

It became the cherished property of a man so devoted to the arts that many thought him eccentric. Perchance you remember the Count Emorenth?


	12. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Diana watched as her brother and Jonathan became closer, a deep bud of friendship seemed to have taken root between them. Every day they became more enthusiastic… and as happy as she was that they were friends, a deep sorrow formed within her as she saw them together. Since Jonathan had become manager, she had watched as Erik had been forced to retreat deeper into the shadows…

He was almost never able to be with her above ground anymore, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to get below to him. She missed waking up in the morning and seeing him asleep next to her. The feel of his arms around her, the scent of his cologne… why did things have to change? "…Diana? Are you all right?" Diana whirled around and grabbed him in a hug. "Erik! You shouldn't be here! What if someone sees you!" Erik's eyes grew cold, a slight snarl turned his lip. "I have no fear of those around us, it's you I'm worried about." She shook her head in confusion, why should he be worried about her? Did she have to hide underground? "You've been very quiet recently, Diana, one with a voice such as yours shouldn't be silent…" Erik's eyes grew wide as Diana covered his mouth, her lips demanding his.

When she pulled out of the kiss, her cheeks were moist with tears. "You have no reason to worry about me, and my voice is shamed by yours, you're the one who shouldn't have to be silent…" Her eyes looked fearfully about them, searching the shadows for any who might be hiding within. The feel of his arms around her had been sorely missed, and both her body and mind craved it like a drug. With difficulty, she made herself release him. "You must go now! Before someone sees you!" His eyes narrowed, unaware of the conflict taking place within his lover. "Will you come to me tonight? Refuse, and I will come up and find you. You worry me Diana…" Diana nodded, her eyes shifting around to cover the hall.

With a sigh, Erik bowed and faded into the shadows. Diana turned and fled down the hallway to where the rest of the cast was practicing. Several heads turned her direction as she passed, a few whispered words passed between them.

Peter shook his head, "There is no way that prop is still safe to use, I can see the termites from here!" Jonathan nodded, wrinkling his nose at the smell of rotten cloth and wood. "You were right, we should have inspected this mess earlier… gods what a stench!" Peter laughed and threw a rotted pillow at him. Jonathan blinked and barely managed to duck. The pillow hit the nearby wall, and exploded in a shower of moth eaten cloth and feathers. "I almost got you!" Jonathan reached behind his back, his hand settling on a cushion. "Oh Peter, catch!" A moment later he was on the ground laughing, pointing at Peter who looked like a sack of flour had been dropped on him.

"Phwahahahahahahahhahaa! You look hysterical! Hehehahahaha!" Peter spat out a feather and shook himself of, "Thanks a lot… now I look like some kind of demented spook…" To his annoyance this earned him another bout of laughter! "Hahahah! Peter Grey the demented spook! Hahah!" Peter groaned and looked at himself in the mirror, "I'm either the demented spook, or the phantom of the opera!" Jonathan shrugged helplessly, his entire body shaking. "Heh, would it help if I said I'm sorry? Heheheh!" Peter smiled and shook his head. "You really are a piece of work Jonathan."

Both laughing, they continued the examination, unaware of the form in the shadows watching them. "It seems that we'll have to order some new props to replace the rotten ones, how many are there?" Peter back tracked his steps. "One two three four… eighteen nineteen twenty… it looks like there's about thirty two of them." Jonathan nodded and wrote it down. "I think I see why Andrea and Firmin never got around to this, it's going to be expensive!" Peter shook his head, "It's no wonder we have so many accidents, not because of any ghost, but because of rotted props!" Jonathan smiled quietly, "You don't believe in the ghost Peter?"

Peter shook his head, smiling he turned back to his friend. "Do you believe in the phantom?" He blinked with surprise when Jonathan nodded, "Are you being serious? Let's be mature about this Jonathan! Who honestly believes in ghosts!" Jonathan smiled, "I never said that I believe in ghosts, but I do believe in the man who calls himself one." The form in the shadow faded and disappeared. "He is here Peter," Jonathan's voice was not much more than a whisper. "I saw him, and so did you. Don't ever deny it!"

"What do you think Kirsty? Should I wear this one? Or this one? Or neither!" Kirsty smiled, a wicked gleam in her eye. "Well… I hope that you plan to wear something Diana! Or you might give him the wrong idea…!" She laughed at Diana's indignant cry and danced out of range. "Kirsty! Have some decency please!" Diana returned to looking threw her things, she had no idea if this was going to be a music lesson, or if Erik had something else planned. She sighed, there was something gnawing at the back of her mind… suddenly she blinked. "Oh! I don't believe this!" With renewed vigor she disappeared into her closet. Kirsty shook her head, "What is it? What's going on now?" Diana looked up, "Kirsty, I've told you how I feel about Erik haven't I?" Kirsty nodded, a smile spreading over her face. "Let's see, how many times have you told me that you love him with every corporal part of your being? Let me think, oh yes! Only once or twice." Diana laughed, her eyes twinkling. "Well, since you know this fact, let me tell you something else. Today is a special day; it's the anniversary of the day my lessons began! And I forgot!"

Kirsty nodded, understanding the problem. "So maybe we should go shopping and get you a new dress! We've still got hours left before the sun sets!" Diana smiled and pulled her head out of the closet. "You know what Kirtsy, I think that's a perfect idea! We could both use some new clothes." Kirsty pulled Diana to her feet and lost her balance. Both tumbled into the pile of dresses on the floor. "Kirsty, do you get the feeling we've done this before…" Kirsty nodded and pulled her foot out of a sleeve.

The city of Paris was abuzz at this hour, carriages and pedestrians were everywhere one looked. The scene was as hectic as they get. And amongst this chaos, the smells of the bakery and the sounds of the city consumed the senses. Kirsty led Diana down a side street to one of the gown shops, both were giddy with their excitement. "Well, how do I look in this one?" Kirsty walked around her and studied the dress. "You look good, but not as good as I look in this one!" Diana shook her head and laughed, throwing the dress of over her head to try on another one.

When the sun began to set, they returned to the opera house in triumph. The sound of their shoes hitting the steps the only sound they heard. "So where do you think he will take you?" Diana froze, for a moment she had forgotten that Kirsty didn't know the 'Entire' truth. Kirsty looked at her expectantly, "Well…I don't know, I guess it will be a surprise." The sound of footsteps behind them caused them to look over. Erik stood in the shadows, his black opera cape hiding all but his face from view. Kirsty drew back with a gasp, her eyes focused on his mask. "Run Diana! It's the Phantom of the Opera!" Kirsty grabbed for Diana's hand but Diana ignored her. The Ghost advanced and all of Kirsty's senses screamed at her to run, but she would be darned if she let the phantom take her friend!

"Relax mademoiselle Lefebvre, I mean neither you nor Diana any harm." Kirsty's eyes grew wide with shock, "I know… your voice… my God. Erik..?" she continued to move backward, her eyes wide with shock. "No… you can't be the ghost! Because if you're the ghost than Diana…" Diana bowed her head. Kirsty stuttered wordlessly, then found her tongue. "Diana's been lying to me this entire time…" Erik sighed, he had in no way wished to make a scene. "Kirsty, you must understand! How could I have told you the whole truth! I tried to tell you as much as I could!" Diana reached out to embrace her friend but was pushed away, Diana locked eyes with her friend pleadingly." If Erik was found out he would be killed!" Kirsty glared at her, "You could have told me the truth! I thought we were friends!" Diana shook her head, "We are friends! I wanted to tell you!" Kirsty turned her back to them; Erik moved from the shadows and took his place at Diana's side. "Please Kirsty, you must tell no one about this! If you care for me at all…"

Kirsty whirled around, her eyes Blazing. "Do you even realize what he is Diana? He's a murderer! I can name three people who are dead because of him!" Erik hissed, a sharp intake leading to anger, and sighed, then nodded. his eyes gleamed in the shadows. "…I make no move to deny it, I am far from 'pure'." The word was a bit forced, and more than a little spiteful."However I do care for Diana, and it is for her sake that I ask you to keep this secret." Kirsty sat down into a nearby chair and tried to take this entire thing in. "I'm sorry that I had to lie to you Kirsty, I really am." Kirsty seemed to remember something, for here eyes opened wide and she made as if to scream. Instantly Erik was over her, his eyes meeting hers, one black gloved hand over her mouth. "Shhh… hush, I won't hurt you, but I cannot allow you to shout." Her eyes were frantic, but she held still. He relaxed a little, "…I'm going, to take my hand away. When I do, you will not scream. Agreed?" she nodded, mouth going slack. "Very good, alright." He stepped away. Kirsty drew back, and stared at Erik with horror renewed.

"Oh Diana… have you seen his face..?" A low moan formed in Erik's throat, Diana reached for his hand, hoping it would comfort him. "He has the face of a dead man! And, and the soul of a murderer! How can you possibly care for him!"

Diana smiled sadly and walked toward her friend "He doesn't have the soul of a murderer Kirsty, if you got to know him you would see…" Once again, Kirsty drew back, her eyes wide. "His soul is beautiful." Kirsty shook her head in disbelief. Suddenly her eyes became rebellious, "And what if I refuse to keep your dark secret! What will you do then!" An uneasy silence filled the room, it was broken by the sound of Diana weeping. Kirsty watched in shock as the ghost took her friend within his arms, his eyes filled with concern. Kirsty rose from her seat and approached cautiously. When the phantom made no move to stop her, she took Diana's hand. "I didn't mean it Diana, if I must I'll keep your secret. Though I don't understand, and probably don't have any real choice at all. That's what friends do. But from now on, you tell me everything, kay?"

Diana nodded, clasping kirsty's hand tightly. "I knew you would understand… I'm so sorry I didn't tell you sooner… Forgive me."

"I have a sinking feeling that this is not going well…" I gave Daroga a disbelieving look, from where we are sitting in box five, the scene taking place bellow us is painfully clear. "A sinking feeling you say? How mean you that?" The sarcasm in my voice was a tad sharper than I had meant it to be. Daroga chuckled and watched the stagehands tossing bucketfuls of water… really just back into the growing puddle of water. I sighed, "If this keeps up the entire first to twelfth rows will be underwater!" Daroga nodded, "Well, let's look at the bright side! At least the stage is getting washed!"

From my aggravated snort he seemed to guess my temperament, our attention returned to the scene bellow us. " When they give up, will you be able to repair the damage?" I failed to keep from chuckling. "Just wait, they're going to blame this blunder on me. I seem to do so much around here." We locked eyes and I chuckled, "I'm still not sure how they managed this one…" A muffled curse signaled that they had discovered the broken pump. "Holy mother of… Look at what the Phantom did this time!" Daroga and I exchanged amused glances.

"Can we actually fix this? The pumps jammed tight!" Several of the stagehands attempted to turn the crank to (off), they only succeeded in getting themselves soaked. "This is unbelievable! If we don't turn this stupid thing off we'll submerge the entire theater!" Peter grabbed the wheel and pulled hard. With a rusty groan it rotated backwards, to the (off ) setting. Several of the stagehands cheered. Others went of to get more buckets to remove the water from the theaters interior. Peter watched as the majority of the water receded through the floor and back through the pump to the lake.

"Well done Peter!" Peter smiled and picked up a bucket. The doors at the front of the theater opened and the rest of the cast poured in. "Peter! What happened here! It looks like a flood!" Peter shrugged, "As far as I can tell Diana, the pump that allows us to drain the underground lake so that we can use the water up here ruptured!" Several of the other stagehands laughed. "Ruptured isn't the word! The bloomin thing exploded!" Peter nodded, "We've got it turned off now, but we're going to need a repairman to come in and fix it."

Several of the other performers helped to drain the water off the carpet, which already smelled like rotting cloth. "Well, we're not going to be able to sell any ground seats for a while!" Peter nodded to Diana and handed her a bucket. A small chuckle from behind them drew everyone's attention. Jonathan stood with a small smile playing over his face. "That's quite alright." Diana shook her head. "How can it be all right? We'll have to cancel next week's night performance!" Jonathan smiled. "No, we won't, we will have a box only performance since the floor will remain damp. I'm sure we can get something to handle the smell."

Diana smiled, "A box only Performance? It will be expensive…" Jonathan laughed, his eyes burning with inner vision. "Yes, it may be expensive, but I'll make it worth the money." Peter shook his head, "So what's going to make it worth all that money? What have you got up your sleeve? …What are you going to hide in those boxes?" Jonathan grinned. "Nothing like that Peter, don't be absurd! Simply, to pull in enough for all the repairs that we need to make, all the box seats must be sold." A horrified gasp echoed around the room, Diana and Kirsty exchanged worried looks. Madam Giry drew in a deep breath, "Surely your not intending to sell Box Five, monsieur...?"A kind of possessed look sparkled in the back of Jonathans dark eyes. "Yes, I intend to rent out the Phantom's box."

A frightened bout of whispering filled the large room, Diana looked at Jonathan, fear shining in her face. Jonathan turned his face towards box five, and raised his voice to the heavens. "I know you don't recognize me Opera Ghost! Thought you should! Since I was here nigh the chandelier you dropped killed my Family!" there was pain in all their eyes, but there was rage in Jonathans voice. "I will avenge them Phantom! My younger sister! My old mother! Even if I must spend the rest of my life, hunting you down!" To their horror, a mad laughter answered Jonathan's challenge, the sound seemed to be coming from every direction! As Jonathan would whirl about to face it, it would come at him from a different place, always the ghost was out of sight.

"I'm here! I'm here Monsieur!"

From the back pocket Jonathan pulled a musket. The Phantom's laughter turned more sinister. "You will pay for what you've done Phantom! You have nowhere to run to! No one will help you!" The choir drew back with a shriek as Erik's form flashed for a moment between the rafters. The

Phantom's laughter swelled as he neared the center of the auditorium, then ceased suddenly above their heads. An eerie silence wafted over them, no one dared to breathe. "…You forget where you are monsieur, you are in my world now." For some reason, the sudden dark calmness that the phantoms voice gave of… was far more terrifying than his laughter. His voice grew quieter still, just a whisper. "So if you wish to wage war against me… be prepared to fight to the death."


	13. Chapter Eleven

  
Chapter eleven  
The heat in the theater was stifling. Behind the curtain several of the choir members were feeling faint. However it was not all because of the heat… the Phantom of the Opera's box had been sold, now there would be hell to pay. Frightened cast members traveling in groups for safety made their way to their places on the stage. Diana dressed and applied the makeup for her costume within the relative safety of her dressing room, worry gnawing away at her. Erik wasn't well. After the incident with Jonathan, she had found him leaning against the other side of her mirror, He had been shaking slightly, and his breathing had been ragged… She had kept him with her that night. Listening to his strained breaths as he slept, fear that she was going to loose him haunting her thoughts. He had seemed slightly better in the morning, but he was still so weak… Diana shook her head. Whatever the problem was, she would make sure she did all she could… A nagging sense. She looked about, but there was no one there. 

The past few days had been awful, the entire opera house trapped in a state of suspended terror. The Viscount, "Roul", and the Persian, "Daroga", had been seen disappearing almost right through the walls, rumor was they were in league with the ghost. Diana knew that they were on the same side, while she and her own brother were for the first time in their lives, not. Peter and Jonathan were inseparable; she had not even been able to speak to her brother since the incident! Diana sighed, it felt like she was going against the entire world by herself, was this how Erik felt?

The door slid open and Madam Giry poked her head in. "Diana? Oh good, I was hoping you would be in here." Diana smiled, "What is it Madam Giry?" A note emerged from the ballet mistress's sleeve, with a smile she handed it over. "he has sent this to you." Diana took the note and placed it on her desk. "I wish I could stay longer, but I have to get back to my post." She turned to leave. "Madam Giry, do you think the phantom will reveal himself?" Madam Giry paused, then sighed. "I hope not Diana, I truly hope not."

"The stage is set, the cards are down. It's your move now Phantom…" I look over the stage, the boxes… everything is going as planned. Peter is restless, I can tell. He has the look about him of a trapped animal. "Are you sure about this Jonathan? I think we should call the police and tell them about this…" I hear myself scoff, "Don't be a fool Peter, the police can do nothing to help us, they've tried before." He doesn't seem to be listening to me, his attention is elsewhere... on the stage below us?

"What is bothering you my friend? You look petrified." His expression turns graven. "Will Diana and the others be safe? We're practically begging this madman to do something to them!" I smile, he's right of course, this would be a perfect opportunity for some kind of disaster involving the cast. Have I underestimated my enemy? No, his fight is with me. "Don't worry about the cast, his battle is not with them." Peter shakes his head and sighs, "I still don't like this…" I hear myself laughing, no, he doesn't like this at all…

From bellow us in the orchestra pit a cry rings out, with flying steps Peter runs over to see what's wrong. I shake my head chuckling, yes ghost, now it shall be war between us. Yet this time, dark friend; disaster… will be yours.

The curtain is raised for the first act, several members of the audience gasp at the elaborate scenery and costumes. In Box Seven Roul reclined, trying to appear at ease. Inside however he was trembling with tension. "What will you do Phantom, will someone die tonight?" Diana was in good voice, but she was holding back… Roul smiled. "...So you only sing with your full heart to him, such devotion in a young woman. You were blessed Erik." A chuckle from behind him catches his attention, I watched as he blinks. "Erik..?"

I come out of the shadows. He is relieved to see me, without a doubt he thought I was out killing someone. "You seem surprised to see me Viscount, am I intruding?" Roul blinks, then realizing my meaning, gets to his feet and offers me the other chair. I comply silently, my eyes remaining on Diana. This puzzles me still… how this came about. I don't trust people, it's a trick of the trade, 'and a preference'. But I have grown accustomed to him all too quickly. "What brings you to my box?" He hears my annoyed snarl and looks away. "Well, I would be watching the performance from my normal seat in Box Five, however it seems to be otherwise occupied."

He nods slightly, his eyes following mine. "She sings only for you, it's obvious." The swell in the orchestra's notes reaches a high point as Diana/ Aieda and Pevarntori/ Radamase meet, their eyes locking together. For a moment, a deep regret wells up inside of me, we could do that together… and bring all of Paris to its knees! If it only wasn't for my… I clear my thoughts. What's done is done, this is what life willed to be. Who am I to question now that life has given me her? "Perhaps you're right Viscount, I am blessed." I lean back into the chair, Pain! Why am I in pain? I flinch against it, one hand grasping my chest. For a moment it's hard to suck in air. I cough into my hand, relieved to feel most of the pressure lift. "…Erik, are you well?" I raise my eyes; the Viscount looks down at me, his expression appalled. "Yes, well enough, it comes and goes." He nods, but his eyes continue to watch me sparingly for the rest of the act.

The curtain soon falls on Act One, and I make my way into the shadows. Another stab in my chest. I hiss slightly, falling back to allow a group to move past me. The sting remains, sore and tight. Damn it all! Several of the audience members are grumbling, their noise draws me back to myself. Curious, I move closer to listen.

"Well, so far I am yet to see a ghost!"

"I paid good money to attend this production, so I want what he promised!"

The muttering grew louder, "He had better deliver what he promised soon or I'm going to get my money back!"

…Anger boiled up inside of me, what is wrong with these people! One of the finest voices in the world is onstage performing for them! Yet all they can think about is a stupid ghost story! My teeth tightly clenched, my fists flexed. This isn't right. There is no reason Diana should be wasting her time performing for these idiots. "Besides that, this is the poorest rendition of Aieda I've ever seen! The roles are far beyond the ability's of the cast!" …That was it. My temper, my terrible temper was baited. Adrenaline dulled the pain, and one hand strayed to the noose at my waist. I'd had enough of this.

_**"You are poor judges of fine Art! Society Pigs! "**_

At first they didn't move, their mouths hanging agape in shock from my hell filled voice. Then a panic took hold of there bodies, with terrified cries all fled the scene. I laugh, can't help it, really, have you ever seen rich people run? They don't, they trip over their feet like their own shoe-ware has turned against them. The laugh came out choked, fatigue washed threw my muscles, my legs grow weak. I try to take a calming breath, can't, my chest won't expand.

That wheezing sound, is that me? Air, I need… I feel myself loosing focus on the room around me, the floor suddenly rushes up. A jarring impact, but a cough escapes me and I draw in breath swiftly. Gasping like a fish out of water, that's how I must look. The fall must have jarred me enough to inhale. Silently I curse myself… trying to focus my senses that are still reeling in darkness. If someone finds me here before I recover… Strong hands under my arms pull me to my feet. I barely recognize Daroga's face through the shadow surrounding me … I can't… I…I can'… "Daroga… …"

The dim glow of a lone candle lit the room. Diana pulled the wet cloth from the bowl and ran it gently across Erik's forehead. He stirred slightly, a shallow moan escaping his throat. "Has he come round yet mademoiselle?" Diana shook her head, "No, not yet Daroga, what happened to him? He seems so…" a soft stirring drew their attention back to Erik's form. "I'll explain everything to you when I can, I promise. Just tell me when he wakes." Diana nodded. He stirred again, weakly as if to pull away. The heat ran down from his face to his neck. She placed a rag over his throat and unbuttoned the first several buttons on his shirt. The heat was here as well… gently, she wiped the cloth over the numerous scars that crossed his upper chest and shoulders. They were deep, these scars… what could have formed them? There were some signs that they might have become infected before they healed, some of them had in their time been crudely stitched…

There was so much about Erik's past that she still didn't know, who had done this to him? The suffering these wounds must have caused… she shuddered. "…who did this to you Erik?" His form stirred lightly under her hand, his eyes fluttered weakly. "Erik, you can do it, wake up now…" Despite her encouragement his form relaxed once again. She sighed, his gentle breaths calming her despite herself. "One day you will tell me."

I watch quietly as Diana watches over Erik, her determination to stay with him, despite the fact that the rest of the cast will whisper… she is a rare woman. With some amusement I recline in the nearby chair, it seems that interesting people attract interesting people! Allowing my eyes to wander once more I notice a cabinet in the kitchen hanging slightly ajar, my brow furrows in amazement. I know Erik, he's as close to a perfectionist when it comes to (anything) as any man I've ever met. And these tendencies had strayed rather analy into his housekeeping. To have a drawer so obviously open, it's not like him… rising from my seat I walk over to close it. I fear he's rubbed his habits off on me…

I suddenly catch myself chuckling, no. If that was the case, I would be living down here to! "And there's no way I'm going to do that." As I reach out to close the drawer something falls at my feet. With growing worry I lift it from the floor, my hands shaking. "Oh Erik… no… you said you quit…" Dropping the needle I grab the cabinet drawers, slam them open… and stare in silence. I had thought that Erik no longer had a need for the morphine, I had been so sure… "Is it any wonder you're having these attacks? My God Erik… don't you realize this stuff is killing you? This is all my fault…"

The bag of powder seems to gloat at me, I should have known better… how did I ever get the foolish idea that he could quit on his own! "I've just been fooling myself, I should have made more of an effort…" This… this just brings back memories… I was the one who had introduced him to it, after all. Back in Persia…

The sultan of Persia's court, Persia, 1849

I paced outside the Court magician's room, to anyone walking by I probably appeared anxious. Erik had been acting differently these past several weeks. His already short temper had been straining at its bonds, and the fact that this pleased the young sultan did not escape my interest. I paused outside the door and contemplated knocking… my mind once more straying to the scene taking place outside. Several prisoners were being dragged into the main courtyard, there faces white with fear. They were all armed, they had that right at least, and mind you, prisoners don't have rights in Persia. The poor fools were here because they had accepted a gamble.

The rules were simple enough, they had the right to attack alone, or in groups. They had their choice of weapons and could get quite creative with them. Lastly, they had the choice to fight the Court magician and perhaps win their freedom, or refuse to, and die in the chambers. The lock on the door turned and allowed me access. Erik was nowhere to be seen, so I sat on a cushion to wait. The Sultan saw Erik as nothing more than an animal… a rare species of jungle cat, perhaps. The smell of many bodies crowded into one small space reached my nose through the open window.

In truth, these fights had been going on for quite some time now. It had been going on since long before the young sultan had ordered me to search the world for Erik. Then it had been prisoners fighting prisoners. Since then however, the gruesome sport had evolved into this. "Where is he, he should be here by now…" I felt my worries starting to set in. "…Daroga, how long have you been here." Erik's eyes were pools of fire, even from where I was sitting I could see his frame trembling, was it with tension? With fear? "The sultan is waiting for you, we had better go." Erik snarled, his fist clenching so that I heard the bony knuckles crack. "When will enough blood have been shed to satisfy that fool? Already I have killed too many! So many that I've lost track!"

I drew back stunned, "I've had enough! I'm loosing my mind!" his fist shattered the table in front of him, shards of glass flew about the room, landing on the floor with a chiming sound. "Erik! Calm yourself!" A chair smashed into the wall and I feared that the noise would bring the guards running. "Are you trying to get us both killed!" His eyes met mine, a deep sense of terror embedded itself within my heart. Those weren't human eyes, they were dune eyes. They were the eyes of a stalking lion, Fiery and feral. "Do you know what's here that's worth living for!" His eyes glowed as his gaze turned to the window, "Why not die, we have no purpose worth life here! I don't fear death! But I'll tell you what I do fear Daroga, I fear damnation!" The passion behind his words sank into me. I could almost see it, those pictures from Europe showing the demon screaming revenge to the sky. And oh the wings, long and black, they did seem to suit him, fit him as he reared to scream.

"We cannot give up Erik, Allah will show us the way… I know our beliefs on these matters aren't the same, but I cannot believe you to be damned." Heart wrenching laughs echoed through the air. "I have been Damned from Birth Daroga! Fallen since I was spawned!" His voice was cracking with emotion, raw, too raw. What has pushed him this far! A thought crosses my mind. No, would he? Or did the sultan suggest it? Order it? "Erik! Have you been put on some kind of Drug?" He quiets, his eyes, a moment ago a burning forest, regarded me with deep confusion. "…If I may Daroga, what does that have to do with what we were discussing?"

My eyes must have been as big as wagon wheels. This is definitely not normal… his mood had gone from vicious to docile in seconds! Speak softly old boy, keep him calm… "Just a question, have you been put on a drug Erik?" He looked away, nodded, then moaned, clutching at his throat. "For…Forgive me Dar… gh!" He crumpled against the wall, choking it seemed. I was surprised at how quickly I reached his side. "Erik! Tell me quickly! What is the name of the Drug!" He was struggling for breath, unable to respond. I found myself unable to do anything to help him, my entire body shaking.

Slowly, his breaths evened out. His eyes locked with mine. He panted softly, "I didn't mean… to attack you like that Daroga… I didn't…" I nod, calm, keep it calm for both of you. "I know Erik, I know you didn't. It's the drug, tell me about the drug."

He nodded, breathed deep, but his answer still came out a sore whisper.

"…They call it hashish"

Paris, 1867 the Paris Opera house

I remember it all to well, hashish, as they had named it, was a dangerous drug, the effects it had had on Erik were devastating. That was a time when most of the drugs in Persia were considered harmless… we had been such fools. To save Erik from the painful death of hashish, I had him exposed to the more calming drug opium. However, Erik had feared that it might damage his voice, so we had searched for an alternative… we found morphine.

You would think two intelligent men like ourselves would have realized the danger, well, we didn't. Now, years later we fought his addiction together, or at least so I had thought. I shook my head. "Why Erik? Is this because of the manager?" I turned as a hand lay on my shoulder… Diana's emerald eyes locked with mine. "Daroga, please tell me the truth. Why is this happening? How long has this been going on?" I sigh and removed her hand from my shoulder.

"Perhaps it's time you heard the story."


	14. Chapter Twelve

Chapter twelve

"…Ohm… … where… where am I…" The pain in my chest, where did it go? What has happened? I open my eyes.

The room is lit by the coals of a dying fire, from above me on the mantle the clock chimes midnight. …I'm in my home, but how? I don't remember coming home, I wouldn't have made it… ah, now it makes sense. Daroga is asleep in the chair across from me, his hand supporting his head. "Daroga..?" he mumbles a protest and turns away from me. My patience wears thin, I need to know the consequences of my outburst. Was I seen! "Daroga!" His eyes spring open and he leaps to feet. "No Allah! Not the damn camels! I hate those stupid, smell…Erik! How long have you been awake!" I shrug, "Only a few minutes… what happened..?"

He sighs and disappears into the kitchen. Then returns with a pot of soup and I watch quietly as he pours us each a bowl, gratefully I take the one he offers to me. "Thank you." He nods and sinks back into the chair across from me. "You had another attack, couldn't you tell?" Mentally I curse myself, darn it! "Another one? Did anyone spot me?" He smiles sadly… a sound from the back rooms draws our attention. "Daroga… I think there's a mouse in my room, would you tell me where the trap…" Diana pauses, then runs over. I feel her arms around me and relax into her embrace.

"Thank God! You really scared me Erik!" Daroga chuckles as I shoot him a murderous look. "She refused to relax until I brought her here." My jaw clenches, "Do you think she will not be noticed missing! At a time like this! The last thing I will allow is for her to be put in any danger!" Daroga winces and nods, "We were just worried about you." …I think, from the look that I'm getting from both of them, that I must have just sworn in Persian. With effort, I force myself to relax. The choice was hers to make.

"…Forgive me, I worry too much… I just, I don't want to loose you…" Her lips over mine wipe out my doubts, calm my fears… I need her so much… and I can't even protect her. Not like this… "Don't worry about me, I can take care of myself, you have other things to worry about." Her hands in mine, oh lord above… she can't stay here! With effort I rise to my feet, she reaches out to support me but I push her back. "You must go back, I promise… I will come to you soon. You must not be found missing!"

I sit and watch the rain falling outside my window, running in the walls cracks to the pavement below. Gathering in puddles, reflecting the stormy sky… its soft pattering on roofs and the streets the only sound to be heard, I sigh. My clock reads 1: … something… I should be sleeping. But all I can think about is him. His lips against mine, the fire in his eyes… sinful thoughts! We aren't even married! And yet… the way he looks at me… it almost makes me forget…

My cheeks cool against the window, trying to sooth the blush on my face, but can I help it? He is made of fire! In his eyes, his movements, even in his breath! It's enough to drive a Sister of the church mad! But he's also warm, with a touch of spice. So every time he touches me… the fire that is part of him passes into me! What should I feel! Is this love? Or is it now just lust! …I need to speak to a priest, wait… oh goodness what would a priest think! Who can I talk to!

"…well, why not, you won't yell or get flustered, will you my God?"

The silence of my room is my only answer. "I have something to confess…" my hand strays to my hair, pulling it behind my ear. "I don't know if you are listening… you must be very busy, but I have a question." My confidence grew with the quiet. "God, is it right for me to feel this way?"

"…And how is it that you feel my child?"

I spin toward the mirror, laughing quietly. "Erik! This is probably beyond blasphemy." He smiles, raising an eyebrow almost mockingly. "Oh, is that so? I was unaware there was a point beyond blasphemy." The mirror opens to allow me access. In the light of the room his arms wrap around me, I sigh happily. "I can tell you cannot sleep, what is troubling you Diana? Have I caused you some kind of pain?"

I shake my head, "You could never hurt me, just hold me Erik… don't let go." His mouth caressed my cheek, laying soft kisses along my jaw. "You're air to me Diana, without you…" I pulled his mouth onto mine, silently enjoying the control I have over such a man. His arms hold me close, while our mouths cemented our bodies together. There is still something so timid about his kiss; as if always afraid it will be the last. With a gasp we pulled apart, his eyes bore into mine. "What do you want Diana." I reached up and caress the mask on his face. "I don't know what I want Erik, I want…I, oh drat to this blushing!" He smiles, running his hand along my side.

"I haven't even thought of this Diana, and I should have. It should have come to me quickly …but perhaps I am wiser than that now." His eyes are deep, remorseful. "You, are you wanting, to be always near me, to know me? Is what you want? I don't know who would join us… such a brave priest would be rare." With regret in our hearts, we release each other. His eyes turn from mine, becoming creased with thought… then they return to me. "Wait, I have a priest in mind, we go back awhile… somewhat…" his gaze wavered, a sense of unsteadiness sweeping into his being. "You must be sure that this is what you want. Do you wish to spend the rest of your life by my side, as my, as my wife?" What he has just said… it's overwhelming… I can only nod. His eyes are such amazing things; they show his emotions so purely…

He moans gently as I run my hand down his chest, telling me that he is feeling exactly what I feel. "Whenever it can be arranged, I will marry you." Something furry rubs against my leg, it mews angrily. Erik raises an eyebrow as I lift Phantom into my arms, my cat glares at him. "What did I do?" he snickers as a small paw bats out at him. I giggle, "I think she's afraid you're trying to take her place."

"He smiles, running his hand down Phantom's back, forcing her to calm down. "…I understand, I had a cat not long ago. They are such jealous creatures!" I smiled, wanting him to continue talking. "What was its name?" He smiled now, obviously remembering fondly the lost pet. "Her name was Iyesha, a Persian Siamese. I found her, and she stayed with me." I stroked Phantom, and for a moment the image of a delicate Siamese, reclining on a couch, formed in my mind. Erik continued, "I'm not sure why, but I have always gotten along with animals. I remember my mother had a dog…"

I can feel his mood change, becoming bitter and cold. This is the first time he has ever mentioned his mother! A sudden terrible thought strikes me, what if she contributed to the scars on his chest! He notices me trembling and immediately softens. "Diana? What is it? What's wrong?" I push the thought aside. "Nothing Erik! Ignore me, my mind was wandering, that's all." A sound from outside my door causes us both to tense. "Diana! Diana open the door! Please answer me Diana!" Erik looks at me, I look at him. "…It's Peter, its just Peter."

"Diana open the door!" I have to get her out of here, there is simply too much going on! I would never forgive myself if she came to some kind of harm! Darn that Meg! Why couldn't she have told me the entire story at the beginning of our careers! I can hear Phantom meowing, please be here Diana… "Diana! Open the door! Please open the door! It's Your brother!" To my relief the door opens, Diana pulls me in and closes the door behind me. "Peter! What is it? You're going to wake the entire opera house!"

A strange smell reaches my nose, I blink. "Diana? Since when have you worn men's Cologne?" A pale blush sweeps over her cheeks, "You've come here to question my hygiene?" She's hiding something from me? Why? Oh lord, focus Peter! This isn't the time for this! This is about that man! "Diana, we need to speak about your monsieur Erik." The blush fades, replaced by a pale and wide-eyed confusion. "What about my vocal instructor? What's wrong Peter?" I sigh.

"Diana, I have spoken with several people, I will not say that you could have known. You are in very great danger!" She has moved away from me, her eyes truly were blinded in this! "The man you call Erik is the same madman who terrorizes this theater! Meg Giry thinks that this monster is…" The blow comes from out of nowhere! From the spot I have fallen I can only stare at her in shock!

"I am so tired of everyone calling him a Monster!" Her eyes are on fire! What have I done to enrage her? "Diana! What has possessed you! Why are you acting this way!"

"Because I love him Peter!" Her eyes narrowed as my mouth sagged open. "L…Love… You love him? God Diana do you realize what your saying!" She turned away from me, her fists clenching. "Of course I know what I'm saying! I'm not a little girl anymore Peter! I'm a grown woman! So if I say something, I know perfectly well what it is!" She whirls around to face me, "You've judged him before you've even know him!" I am at a complete loss for words, and she knows it. "Now, if you have nothing else to discuss with me." She opened the door, "I bid you good day."

"Diana? Talk to me! I'm worried about you!" She opens the door wider to emphasize her point.

So here I find myself! Outside my sister's room with a handprint gradually fading from my cheek… what do I do now? She refuses to even listen to me! Know him, I don't have to know him! I saw him kill, isn't that enough! I move of down the hallway, feeling grateful that it is to early for other people to be walking about. Is there someone I should go to for help? Does Diana realize what she has gotten into?

Diana watched with Erik by her side as her brother walked of. Her hand gripped his tightly, tears running down her cheeks.


	15. Act Three

Ah, I get it, now even I'm getting confused. But now I will do something so we know who's talking! If you see this; Erik, or this; Diana, or even this; Phantom "meow?"

Then that person is who we're in the mind of! Okay, let's go!

**Act Three**

The storm outside the Viscount's house rattles the shutters and shakes the branches in the ancient trees strewn about the grounds. The ponds vibrated violently with the raindrops shattering their smooth surfaces, transforming them into violent seas. The entire estate shakes with each boom of thunder. Within the walls, on the third floor, last room down the corridor …with all candles extinguished. Roul watched the rain falling. In one white knuckled hand he held an empty picture frame, in the other, a pistol.

The lightning flashed across his face as he raised the gun level with his eyes. He razed the hand with the frame, and threw it into the air. The sound of a shot being fired is drowned out by a clap of thunder.

… … …Daroga and Roul stared in shock at the bullet hole in the ceiling, both going into fits of nervous laughter. "whhehehe!.. For a moment I lost my nerve!" Daroga snorted and sat down on the floor to keep from falling, dropping the Punjab lasso. Yes, and your ceiling suffered for it! Mhmhmhmh…hahahahah!" Roul nodded still snorting and handed him a handkerchief to dry his eyes. He picked up the noose and took the wood from it. "Next time you want to show me how to use a Punjab lasso, we do the demonstration outside!"

Daroga nodded, "Perhaps we should also use a soup ladle instead of a pistol for your protection! Just in case you loose your nerve again!"

The noise caused by the shot drew several members of the house staff to the scene, and mild chaos ensued. When the situation was once more under control, Roul and Daroga moved to the library. There, amongst the old books and leather armchairs, the sounds of the storm outside seemed to be swallowed and discarded. For a while neither spoke, their minds free to wander the vast room. Finally, Roul offered to get them a drink and left to fetch the glasses. From down the hallway a door opened, Erik entered the room. Daroga smiled and offered him a chair. With a sigh Erik sank into it, a raised eye brow locked on him. "…have the damn camels gone? I heard a shot."

Daroga blinked, turned a nice shade of maroon, and sighed. "…how long have you known about the camels?" Erik blinked, "Daroga, the gun? The shooting? Slightly more important than a bizarre nightmare." Roul returned, a happy smile on his face. He paused as he spotted Erik. "Did we wake you my friend?"

Erik scoffed, "No, I was already awake… all hell would have broken loose if you'd woken me like that!" Daroga nodded, a small smile playing across his lips. "I have spoken Giry, she will arrive with Diana tomorrow, and then..," Erik's eyes shut, his lips curled. "It's hard to believe, I'm still in denial… Daroga, am I dreaming?" Roul leaned back, "So why couldn't you sleep? Oh damn…" He paused, realizing he was now a glass short. "No, idea, perhaps it's the storm, it's been a while since I slept anywhere I can hear rain." Noticing Roul's expression, he smiled and shook his head no. Roul nodded relieved, and poured himself and Daroga a glass. All three sighed contently.

"This is the funniest thing you realize," both Erik and Daroga shot him a questioning look. "Christine thought the three of us would never sit peacefully together." Erik nodded, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the candles. Daroga could almost feel the quiet excitement in his friends form. After all these years, to find such happiness… how must that feel? How must it feel, knowing, after such a long life of solitude, that tomorrow you will take a vow to never be alone again? A smile formed on his face, what a day tomorrow will be.

Diana watched with excitement as the stableman tethered the horses to the coach. From her seat by the window, Kirsty chatted with Meg in excited tones. Madam Giry stood watch at the door and kept her eyes open for trouble. The entire cast had been given a weeks vacation, but Jonathan might ask where they were going… the goal was to leave before he could.

"Diana! Are you excited? I still can't believe this is happening! I had better catch the bouquet when you throw it! " Meg gave Kirsty a look, "Hey, I haven't gotten married yet! And I'm older than either of you, so I should catch the bouquet." Kirsty considered this for a moment, and then smiled. Meg was still very pretty, and she had a point… Diana smiled. "Thank you again for coming Meg, I appreciate it. How is peter?" Meg sighed, "he's… he's well enough. Diana, about all of that, I am sorry. It's just that, well… I remembered how it had been for Chris… I didn't know you knew. If you knew who he was, you see? I was only worried. If I had known, I never would have mentioned it. Really." Diana nodded, her eyes slightly sad. "…Meg, do you think he's a monster?"

Meg stopped short. "Mon due? No! I never said that! …there was a time when I questioned, sometimes I still question… but that day, when I heard the moaning, and I saw him lying there… alone. No, I could never think him a monster again. Just a man, a forgotten man with a temper I pray to heaven you will break. …And while you're at it, do something about his sense of humor too!"

Giry laughed quietly at Diana's frayed expression, somewhere between laughing and 'WhaT!'" Kirsty got that deep in thought look. "Wait…how do we know before hand who will catch the bouquet? Have we developed magic powers? Some flower throwing sense? What! I'm serious!" Diana laughed with them, her heart fluttering. Already she felt Erik's arms around her.

Peter watched them preparing to go, turned to head back inside, and stopped.

Peter

"…I don't approve, I don't really know this man, but Diana…" he paused looking torn. "…it's still Diana's wedding I'm missing, and that's not right either…" He leaned back, picturing the Phantom on the catwalk, the man in the mask at the masquerade, the voice in the theater teaching Diana to sing. "…They trust him, despite the deaths, the madness… and since that first week here… I have not seen him touch a soul." The thunder crashed, came in through the window and splashed his face with rain. "and that one night… that night…"

Flashback to a month after the masquerade:

Drip… drip… drip…

Running footsteps, the slapping of leather on stones.

The figure in front slides into a shadow.

"Wait, wait a moment! I need to speak with you!" The man paused, as if surprised to hear a voice, tense, wary. "…Peter Grey? What brings you to the cellars?" I smiled, "well, you really. I want to speak with you." Erik turned, still too far into the shadows to be seen. "Did you now? What is it you need then? Soon someone will miss you upstairs." I laugh, "Let them miss me for a moment! I need a break from it all anyway. Listen, I know it might not mean anything but… you are teaching my sister, and I don't get the feeling you're being paid." Erik stood a little taller, "Monsieur, I am a lover of music, a miser of beauty I fear, and your sisters song is all the payment I need."

I shake my head, "That's noble of you sir, but unfair. I'm sure there are others in need of instructing who would pay quite well, and it bothers me that we are not. Mind you… I cannot make regular payments… but I will get you the money when I can. You have my word. So, what is the cost thus far?" Silence, than a soft laugh. Warm, as if finally melting after being an icicle. "…you are a good man, Peter Grey, and those are more rare in these days than you know." His eyes are all I can see by know, glowing a soft tawny gold from the shadows. "So while I thank you, I stand firm. My free tutoring is a small gift to give, to the last innocents on earth…" The eyes vanished.

I move forward, but he is gone, and the shadow is already fleeing my candles meager flame.

Present:

I turn my eyes back to the window. "…the last innocents on earth," Diana moves forward and bends to stroke one of the horses, a smile in her eyes. "No Erik, the last innocent."

Without another thought he stepped outside.

"Well, looks like the coach is ready, It's raining bathtubs out there!" His eyes fell on Diana's, she stared at him, then smiled and pulled him into a hug. "Oh Peter, thank you thank you! It wouldn't have been right without you!"

Peter I smile, pulling a piece of wet hair off her forehead. "How do you feel Diana?" I shook my head, she looked wonderful…why was I asking such a stupid question. "I cant believe it, my little sister, getting married." madam Giry blinked, her eyes growing wide as she stared out the door. "I think it's time we got going!" The small group burst into action, grabbing bags and trunks and fleeing out into the storm.

Peter thought quickly and jumped into the driver's seat. He chucked the reins sharply and they pulled away from the theater just as Jonathan emerged from the doorway.

His expression was thoughtful as he watched the lone coach vanish down the dark street. "So it is to be war between us to, eh Diana? It's a pity… you've chosen the wrong side."

Diana

Phantom curled up in my lap as the ride into the country progressed, her warm fluffy body warming my hands. I know that Jonathan saw us… how will we explain this when we gat back? What will I tell him when he discovers I've been married? …sigh, there's always a catch. I fear I've been learning this the hard way. Our small party is very quiet during the ride. The only conversation I can hear is, well it seems Peter is speaking with the horses… strange, but I'm so glad he came! Why did he change his mind?

I'm not sure how long we've been traveling; all I know is that we will be there soon. I try to picture how the trip must have been for Erik, since it was dry yesterday. I knew that Erik had taken C'esar, His favorite horse from the stables at the opera. I like C'esar well, the large snow colored beast is as sweet as a lamb. To be sure, he isn't as young as he use to be, but he is still a strong one. Erik had complete confidence in him when they set off. I smile, that horse loves Erik. I've seen him come bounding to Erik's side when he is whistled for, as happy and spunky as a young colt!

To be sure, C'esar belongs more to Erik than to the opera house itself. I don't think C'esar would have it any other way.

A bump rocks us to the right and Phantom leaps from my arms with a yowl. "Diana! Are you alright?" I paid Meg no heed, my eyes are on the three horses that now run beside our coach. For a moment it seemed we speed up, then come to a dead stop.

Peter

My first instinct was to flee, but the riders on each side of me had a look about them that told me to run would mean bad things for us all… without another choice of action, I stopped the horses. The riders also stopped, one of the scoundrels tore the reins from my hand and flung me to the ground. I could hear them laughing as I spat out mud and struggled to stand in the ditch beside the path. "Get a load of him!" The one to speak out pulled me from the mud and held me at gunpoint, a musket against my ear. He scoffed and looked me up and down. "An where are you headed on a night like this? In such a hurry, an in our territory. Delivering something of value?" I shook my head no, his eyes narrowed. One of the other riders opened the door and pulled Kirsty from the coach. "Es got fine ladies with I'm boss! Pretty Ladies!" In response to that I believe she bit his hand! The man beside him pulled Kirsty into his arms with a laugh, "Seems that this one has a temper! I like my women feisty!"

Kirsty screamed, trying to ram him in the face with her elbow. "Leave them alone! Get your hands off her!" The blunt end of the weapon smashed into my face, I pulled away from the pain and then sprang at its source. Too late. Another blow sent me tumbling into the ditch, the screams of the others reached my ears. "Get your hands off me! Peter!" my eyes grew wide, god… not Diana! "Well my dear, you have a pretty bobble on your throat! Ows about giving it here?"

I couldn't see what happened next, I was climbing out of the ditch. But I did hear the cry, cut off at the throat.

"I believe. that necklace. …doesn't belong to you."

Meg

My eyes widened, the opera ghost! In all my years at the opera house I had never seen him like this. He did not dismount from C'esar's back, nor did he remove the noose from the dead man's throat. However his eyes… they were more than still. Latched on to the leaders gaze he glared the man down with his eyes of fire. I must believe that he knew that there were other thieves there, but he ignored them completely.

The group's leader released Diana with trembling hands, where from she dove into the ditch of the side of the road. The other men followed their leader's example and released us. "I don't know who you were, but I promise you that you're a dead man now." All drew their weapons and leveled them at his chest, and for a moment I had a flash of panic, exposed, he's too exposed! He moved faster than I could follow; leaping from C'esar's back and drawing a long blade from his belt. C'esar reared as one fool tried to greb his reighns, tossing his head and striking the man into the ground with his hooves. He screamed a stallions roar and followed where Erik leapt, trampling the few who failed to get out of the way. All the while the storm around us grew worse, and as Erik reached their leader, his blade already stained, a lightning bolt from the sky lit up the scene.

I did not hear the shot ring out, I had not seen the man crouched behind the coach, but I did see C'esar fall screaming, his snowy coat streaming with blood… Slowly, time returned to its normal course. Erik dropped the leaders head next to his carcass, his eyes turning to the man behind the coach. A soft sound came from his throat, almost a growl. If the fool hadn't tried to run… I saw the lasso fly through the air and wrap around that mans neck. We heard his spine break as his own momentum jerked him down.

The fire seemed to depart from Erik's eyes. He moved to remove the lasso, his hands steady, but his breath shook. Once this was done he turned to us, his eyes silently asking us if we are alright. A pitiful moan from behind us froze us all in our tracks. C'esar was lying near the ditch, his front legs struggling to push him of the ground. His eyes were wide… wide and so full of suffering… he whinnied, thrusting his head forward and pulling with all his strength. Blood coated his once snowy chest, his painful, heaving flanks… Erik walked beside the ditch, knelt, pulling the great beasts face into his arms. I heard something, a cry that didn't escape with enough air to sound. "…steady, easy…easy, it's alright…steady…" Kirsty went over and stood as close as she dared, Diana went further. She wrapped her arms around the horse's neck.

My mother handed Peter a handkerchief to wipe himself off, amazed that other then being bruised he was unharmed. Diana looked up at Erik, her eyes wide. "How badly is he hurt?.." Erik shook his head, he didn't reply.

"…Get control of your horses, go on your way. I'll take care of this," Diana shook her head no. Reaching out to place a hand on his arm, he allowed it, but told her again. "Go on Diana, I'll catch up with you." Peter moved forward and picked her up, bringing her back to the coach. He looked back at the ghost, a kind of silent awe in his face. Soon the horses were quiet and ready, Peter, who had continued to watch Erik, spoke up. "Where do you want us to wait for you? You can't get far without a horse…" Erik looked over, his mask catching the little light that remained like a sliver of the moon. All the rest was shadowed. "…Wait for me, around the next bend in the road, I won't be long."

I was almost deaf to the feel of the coach moving below us, I knew what was going to happen.

When we rounded the bend in the road, a shot rang out behind us.

Then all was still.


	16. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Peter

I watched in silence as the man my sister was to marry told her to go. She refused; I must assume she wanted to remain with him. He locked eyes with me, for a moment my breath caught; they were so much darker than they had been in the basements when we last spoke. They watched me, silently asking me to take her. As if he wanted to see what I would do when faced with this. They asked, (are you willing to forgive, to let it go? For her, will you forgive me for her?) I nodded, and walked over, picked her up, she didn't complain. Her eyes were filled with tears, one hand still stretched to the animal. Once I had gotten her back to the coach she assisted with the others, putting everything in its place while I calmed our horses. All the while I fear that my eyes never left that man, what kind of man was he? To be able to appear out of nowhere, a demon swift in dealing death, only to look at my sister with such worried eyes…

Madam Giry drew me back into the present by getting inside with the others and closing the door. Good, best to go before anything else happens. As I prepared to depart a thought struck me, "Where do you want us to wait for you? You can't get far without a horse…" He looked up at me, his mask shadowed by the clouds. He understood, he knew. That was my offer, attempted trust. Take it or leave it. "…Wait for me around the next bend in the road, I won't be long." His voice was quiet, shaded by exhaustion, and I think appreciation... I nodded and clucked the reins. As we pulled away, I saw him rise and pick a pistol up from the ground, its barrel gleaming in the light of the lightning. The rain seemed to come down harder than before, whipping the wind in my face. We turned the bend in the road, the horse's hoofs sticking slightly in the mud with each step.

I heard the shot ring out, causing the horses to start for a moment before I could make them stop. They pawed the ground, the heat of their breath rising into the air… Erik was true to his word. He slid silently next to me in the front before I even realized he was there. With his quiet directions we soon arrived at the Viscount-de-Changny's estate. To my surprise the Persian and Viscount were waiting for us, their expressions taunt with fear. Erik leapt from my side, joining them on the ground. They listened to what he said, their worry easing when they heard everyone was alright.

So one by one I helped the women from the coach, Diana immediately sprung into Erik's arms. He returned her embrace, his face beyond my sight, his shoulders trembled lightly. Her lips moved and he nodded. Both turned away from the rest of us and went upstairs. "…He won't hurt her, will he." The Persian smiled, "No my friend, never. Relax, I understand, you are a good sibling to worry. Will you come inside?"

Erik 

I picked Diana up in my arms once the others were out of sight, just to hold her, at that moment I needed her, just so I could breathe. She kissed my neck. Her warm lips against my throat sent shivers down my spine… my Diana, my… there is mud everywhere! …why did this just occur to me? Think about it, falling+wet dirtgetting all muddy. Not complicated, just miniscule when thinking of other things. "There is a bath in your room with hot water so you can wash… why are you crying? Are you hurt!" Her teary eyes met mine, "How… how did you know I needed you?" I blinked. "Back on the road, how did you know? That terrible feeling, strong enough to make me ignore both Daroga and the viscount.

"I simply had a feeling… your shivering Diana! Come, we can discuss this after you have a warm bath and put on dry clothes." She lay back against me and allowed me to take her to her room and place her on the bed, all the while her breath brushing against my throat. She began to undress; a maid came in to draw the bath for her. And, since my job was done, I left. For modesties sake I couldn't stay with her, even though I wanted to. It was riding me hard now, the need to keep her in my sight, to keep her safe. I returned to my room, tired; and without a desire to see the others again until morning. And into the silence I raise my hand, wait for something to nuzzle it, close my eyes. "…I'm sorry C'esar, so sorry..."

The storm had blown itself out by the next morning, Diana awoke with a feeling of nervousness running through her, this was the last day she would be Diana Grey! And last night was the last night… she sighed, and promised herself that in the future she would find another horse, to heal the hole she had sensed in Erik. To herself she made another promise, that she would not get stage fright speaking the greatest lines of her life. "…best to practice, when in doubt! I do, I do, I do."

The viscount de changny, AKA Roul.

I watched her as she wandered among the flowers, there is defiantly a resemblance between her and Christine… is it any wonder he loves her? I feel a smile spread itself over my face; weddings always bring out the best in me. Her raven hair is darker, her ivy green eyes are not sky blue, but the feeling of happiness and beauty she gives of is exactly the same as my wife's. … I wonder, Is it silly for me to still consider Christine my wife now that she is in heaven? I don't think so. Moreover, if it is, well… than I am a very silly man, and glad of it!

"You are up early Erik." I smile at his stunned silence; he is unable to be around without me knowing he is there. Then he smiles as well. "Well done Roul, well done. It seems I am out of practice." I raise an eyebrow, "Would it kill you to put some faith in my own skills?" He smiles, his eyes gleaming. "…What skills?" I sigh with mild annoyance; I must hope that marriage will curb his sometimes-vicious wit! He seems to read my mind for he laughs and begins to walk away, Diana, who has spotted us by now, waves and disappears inside.

Erik's somewhat puzzled look amuses me. I whisper softly, "It is an old custom, that the groom on the day of the wedding, does not see the bride until they meet at the alter." His eyes narrow with understanding, "Oh… I've never heard of that." I chuckle, "How does it work in Persia?" he seems to think about it for a moment, then give up. "I'm not sure, you would have to ask Daroga." A tap on our shoulders causes us to turn around.

"Well my friends, what are we discussing?" I shake my head, what is it with people who have lived in Persia! Do they all sneak up on people? Or does this only happen to me? "The Viscount was curious about the marriage ceremony of Persia, and now that I think about it… so am I?"

sorry it's a shortie! next chap is longer, promise!


	17. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

The sunset was exquisite that evening, such a blend of gold and shades of red… almost enough to make ones eyes sore. It spread out over the gardens like a goddess's robes, flowing in all directions as far as the eye could see. Where the heart of the sunset sank into the lakes waters, a small podium had been erected. It was painted all in white and hung with lilies and roses, the soft petals that fell, fell dancing into the gentle breeze. On the lawn before the small stage a few plain chairs had been set up in two rows, between them, a white carpet stretched back into the mansions living room.

Golden candelabras, polished to gleaming, stood at the podiums steps, their soft flames flickering with the light wind. And on the podium itself, Erik and Diana took their vows under the eyes of the few trusted witnesses. The preacher closed the great book, an almost amused smile playing on his lips. "I now pronounce you, husband, and wife. You may kiss the bride." He did not question that the mask, which had not been removed during the ceremony. Diana turned his head to hers, throwing the veil over both of them and, despite Erik's small protest, removing his mask before they kissed.

In the silent world, no sound, but breath, and the music that sings in mans souls. In her eyes, his own eyes were all he saw, her lips on his all that he felt. Breathless, endless, their embrace was hard to break, Diana looked into her new husbands eyes. "You will never need the mask around me, I promise." His lips once again on hers were the answer she received. "I love you Diana…so much…" He put his mask back in place, and, kneeling before her removed the garter and threw it into the small crowd. For a moment everyone was silent, than laughter erupted as Daroga removed the tossed fabric from where it had landed, on his nose. "I'm not sure how Erik, but I swear you did that on purpose!"

Peter laughed, almost floored by the Persians irate exclamation. "Well if you don't want it I'll take it! I wouldn't mind getting married too badly!" Daroga raised an eyebrow. Then blinked, "Wait a minute… what does this thing on my nose have to do with getting married!" Peter cleared his throat, trying not to laugh again. Daroga turned to him, "…What?" Peter drew him aside. "The custom is, the groom throws the garter, and the man who catches it… will be the next man to get married!"

"… … … oh.

…WwwhHhaaAtt!"

Peter barely registered what had happened until it was over, and the garter was on "His" nose.

From across the lawn where he had run to, Daroga shouted, "If that's the case than you can have it! And have it with my blessing!" Peter blinked, turned toward the others, and still somewhat stunned asked, "Does this count?"

Diana laughed and threw the bouquet into the air, the mad scramble that followed ended in cheering. Meg grind and held up the flowers like a trophy, "I got it! Finally!" Madam Giry smiled, wiping away a tear. "Maybe I'll get a grandchild after all." Everyone made their way inside, save Erik and Diana. Erik lingered by the waterside, his eyes warm, but distant. Diana wrapped her arms around him, "Erik? Is something wrong? …Why are you crying?" his arms circled her waist, holding her protectively.

"I'm crying? I hadn't realized…" She raised a hand, showing him the moisture on her finger. "You didn't know? What is it Erik, tell me, this is a happy day." He lowered his head to hers, "if I'm crying, it's because… because I am happy, happier than I've ever been before. But every thing is so much like a dream, a dream… I'm also afraid, any moment I might wake up." He paused, a shudder running down his form. "I'll wake up, alone again, living on nothing more than memories…" he pulled her against him, his eyes burning into hers. "I have more to lose now than I've ever had before." Her lips closed over his, "This is no dream Erik… will these memories ever stop haunting you? What can I do to soothe your fears? To calm your mind…" his heart whispered, his eyes shut.

Erik 

I lifted her chin so that I could see her face, her emerald eyes melting my will into nothing. "As long as we are always together, I will never fear memories again. You are light to me Diana…" she smiles, I live for that smile. "You are life to me… I love you, and only love lasts forever." The sound of the others inside distracts me from what we were discussing, I smile slightly. "Do you think we've kept them waiting long enough?" Diana smiles, "No, but we may as well go inside, this can wait till tonight." She laughs at my stunned silence. In retribution I pull her into my arms; to the calls of the others we enter the room.

Later that evening, Daroga and I stepped out into the gardens; the wind was not blowing any harder than it had been earlier, so the branches barely rustled as we passed. Something troubled him however, he was avoiding my eyes. As we walked, the feeling that he wanted to say something, but was refraining from doing so, grew stronger. Finally, my patience wore out. I turned to my old friend, "What the blazes is bothering you Daroga! You said you wanted to speak with me, but you are yet to say anything!" he chuckled slightly, he knew my temper well, "Erik, I was only wondering…" he cleared his throat. "How much longer you intend to remain at the opera house? I must imagine that Diana will want to live a normal life." I nodded, these were hardly new concerns, but was it his business? No. was I going to speak my plans anyway? Probably no. but, it was the kind of night that demanded free lips.

"My thoughts were this. I assume she will want a long carrier, and as long as she sings on the stage, I will remain at the opera. When she decides to end her time as an actress, as they all do eventually, we will move into a house that I've already purchased in the country." Daroga seemed impressed, he sat down and thoughtfully folded his hands. "Well! It seems you've given this a good bit of thought! And here I was all worried about you not having a plan!" We both laughed, I have always been glad to have a concerned friend. Even if I don't admit it, which I don't, and won't. God only knows the truth would shock him too badly. Daroga smiled and then blinked with a sudden thought, "Oh! By the way, what does Diana think of this? It's always a good idea to discuss these things with a woman ahead of time."

I nodded, a smile playing across my face. "I've already discussed this with her and she was delighted at the idea." Daroga smiled and took a sip of his drink. In one of the nearby trees, an owl hooted, signaling the change from late evening to nightfall. "Daroga, how long have we known each other?" He blinked, swirled his drink about in its glass, and thought about it for a minute or two. "Well, many years really… what does this have to do with anything?" I couldn't help but smile, "Did you ever once think, in all those years, that this would happen?" Now it was his turn to smile.

"Believe it or not, I did expect this kind of thing to happen eventually." I raised an eyebrow almost comically. Daroga laughed, somehow able to tell my expression behind the mask. "Daroga, why on earth?" He has that knowing smile on that annoys me so much! This is going to be a long explanation… "Well, you see Erik, women are our counterparts. They are the better parts of ourselves. So, each and every one of us must have this counterpart somewhere in the world, right? And if this is true, than finding a woman you can love is merely the task of finding your counterpart." Well, knock me over with a feather. Leave it to Daroga to make such large assumptions on life, though that doesn't mean that I dislike the idea… but still!

"…Are you sure about that Daroga? It seems a tad far fetched to me." Oh, there's that smile again. "Erik, do you think that Allah would really want anyone to be alone?"

Meg

It's nice to see Diana so happy, what a day, what a party! And she reminds me in so many ways of Christine… no! Snap out of it Meg! You are not going to get upset on a joyous occasion! Even though I miss her, who am I to get upset! Poor Roul didn't even try to catch the garter. She may have been my best friend, but she was his wife. So if he's not getting upset right now than what right do I have?

"Meg? Is everything alright?" I turn around and put on my best happy face. "Yes, everything's fine Viscount. Are you enjoying yourself?" He smiles and shrugs, "Well, I'm having as much fun as anyone! Just between you and me though," He leaned over and whispered in my ear, "I think that Diana is wondering where Erik is." I couldn't help but laugh. "Those two will have to get used to having each other out of their sight!" Erik and the Persian came in from the gardens, talking quietly to each other and apparently arguing over something.

"Erik! Animals don't have souls! It's that simple!" Erik shook his head, "You have no more proof of that than I have proof they do, and what about those who are human but behave like animals? I once met a parrot that had more to say than most men I've met! And I tell you plainly that some things are neither human nor man, so where do they fall? But back to Animal animals, if they don't have souls than what happens to them when they die?" Daroga gave an exasperated sigh. "I don't know! Perhaps they get reincarnated!" Erik gave a snort of contempt, "How could they be reincarnated if they don't have souls! I've got you there Daroga!" The Persian threw up his hands in disgust, "I can't believe I walked right into that!" At the same time they seemed to realize that all the attention was on them. Daroga blushed and stepped back outside, Erik only laughed.

I watched with a little envy as Diana and Erik embraced, I, now in my twenties, have never embraced a man like that! Not that I haven't tried, I have always sought out that kind of companionship. However, for either one reason or another, I have never found a man that I felt right with. Heh, well… I may be a little too picky… I do have a dream of my spouse, as I'm sure all girls do. But I could settle for less! After all, how many women actually get what they dreamed of?

Diana

The party soon died down in the late hours of the night, and all the guests made their way upstairs. I watched as Erik and Roul with the other men, locked the doors and shut the windows to keep out the cold night air. One of the things I like about the viscount is that he goes out of his way to make the lives of his housemaids easier. Finally it is done, and the men all head upstairs. Erik walk's over to me, I place my arms around his neck as he lifts me from the chair. He is so strong… you wouldn't think he was from his build; he's almost as slim around the waist as I am! I smile and snuggle up against him.

Since his arms are full, I turn the knob to open the door to his room, He lays me down gently on the bed, his breath hot on my throat… the door, still open to the hallway, closes.


	18. Chapter Fifteen

**Chapter Fifteen**

_Secrets are hard to keep,  
Precious secrets are impossible._

The same year, maybe two months later?

The sounds of the cast warming up were not the most melodious noises to ever be uttered, that thought was never even considered by anyone present. Practice makes perfect, and the Paris Opera demands perfection. However, Jonathan's mind was not on this now, he had other things to ponder. There were strange things happening in the theater, many strange and curious things… Diana was refusing to speak to him, his friendly acquaintance, the Viscount, seemed wary of him. Even Peter was behaving strangely. To the managers credit he had tried to ignore their strange behavior, knowing all to well it was his own doing. Oh yes, he could tell that Diana had chosen her side in this war, but what of the viscount and Peter than? Have they chosen the other side as well?

"Signore Perongine! Mademoiselle Grey! If you please!" the script manager narrowed his eyes. "We have a limited amount of time to memorize these lines!" From where he was standing Perongine comically mimicked the movements and lip synced to the frustrated script managers ranting. "I see you Perongine! Now stop it!" several members of the cast moaned in disappointment, for they had been enjoying the small show he had been putting on. From off the stage Madam Giry shot daggers at those who had been laughing. She understood the importance of learning ones lines well.

"Now, after seven! Five six seven!"

"Golsto ma pornagwe!"

Everyone was silent for a moment, then burst into laughter. "We do not say GOLSTO, we say GELSTOE! And it is Pormagwe, NOT Pornagwe! Try again!" "GOLSTO MA PORMAGWE!" Diana threw her hands over her mouth to muffle her giggles. "Nearly but no! GELSTOE! We say GELSTOE!" Perongine shook his head, "IT is no good! I cannot say Golsto! …See what I mean!" Most of the cast was holding their sides in anguished laughter, several had to sit down! The script manager wept hopelessly, murmuring under his breath about accursed foreigners. One member of the cast managed to gasp out, "At least it's not Roma's far reaching grasp!"

The fact that anyone remembered such a thing was astounding, but soon everyone was laughing about Roma's instead of Rome's and Golsto rather than Gelstoe! "Are you all quite finished? Or do we have to get into proper vowel use in singing?" all eyes turned to Madam Giry and most managed to quiet themselves. It helped that the woman carried a big stick. A walking cane, to be precise. Soon the act was once more under way, Jonathan watched with little interest. "Why aren't you up to something O.G.? What else is holding your attention…" a slight cough from behind caught (his) attention.

"Ah! Just the two men I was hoping to see." Andrea and Firmin looked about in puzzlement, other than the fact that the carpet had been changed nothing seemed amiss. "You asked us to come because you said something was wrong, I see nothing wrong! Well, minus the new carpet…" Firmin nodded in agreement with his partner. "What is the matter here?" Jonathan smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes. "The problem is our agreement." Both of the past managers exchanged confused looks. Jonathan continued, "I agreed to purchase the opera house for the sole purpose of disposing the Phantom in my own way, so, where is he?"

Andrea nervously wiped his forehead, "Well surely you don't expect him to come out for no reason!" Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "Oh I know that, the problem is that I have given him reason and he's not rising to the bait." Firmin blinked, and then shrugged. "Maybe he's dead!" He received a very dangerous look. Jonathan gritted his teeth together and snarled, "He can't be dead because I haven't killed him yet!" The former managers drew back, fear present in their faces.

…"So that's why you two fools sold out."

All three men spun about to face the voice, their efforts were greeted by cold laughter. "Really, I would have expected you three to know better." Out of the corner of his eye Jonathan saw a shadow moving behind them, his fists clenched in anticipation. "I think you may be underestimating me." The shadow paused, turning to go the other way. "…Are you so sure?" The time was now, Jonathan pulled out his revolver and fired it at the shadow. The bullet grazed the ghosts shoulder it seemed, but the phantom let out no sound. Finally, the voice returned.

"Look behind you Jonathan."

They all whirled just in time to see the shadow vanish before their eyes. Jonathan blinked, "But… that means he was in front of me! Which means he's now, wait, this doesn't make-" The sentence was never finished for a scream echoed up from the stage. The phantom stood his full height, his imposing figure seemed to materialize out of thin air. His eyes were fire, a skull mask served as his face. No one attempted to approach him, none dared to move any closer than they already were.

"So… it is war between us! Consider this fair warning!" the lights suddenly failed as if a gust of wind from the reaches of darkness had blown them out. By the time the light returned, the phantom was gone.

Erik

Silently, I watched as our former managers struggled to return a state of calm to the staff and actors. The Count was preoccupied with the drape he had shot, staring at it quietly. This one is trouble; more than I could ever have realized. He has a light in his eyes… one I know too well. A hunter's light, a killer's light. It had been a long time since I had revealed myself so dangerously… the adrenaline from it was still running threw me! Oh yes… it is surely war between us now, more even than before. I smiled, not nicely either. "It is not I who has underestimated you Jonathan… it is you who has underestimated me." As the adrenaline ran its course, a feeling of some mild regret washed over me. The man was responding to what I had done to him in the past, I could not blame him for wanting me dead. We are tigers, both of us, built for revenge and perhaps nothing more…

I step through the mirror into Diana's room and sigh as her arms go around my neck. She doesn't say a word, she doesn't need to speak for me to feel her worry. "Erik…" She is weeping… I never wanted this… "Diana." Her head reaches its favorite resting place against my shoulder. "You don't need to worry about me." Her eyes meet mine, a thousand fears swirling in their emerald depths. "What if he had hit you! A bullet can still kill you Erik! You aren't a real Phantom!" I pull her close, "I'm not going anywhere."

Her eyes meet mine again, there is something bothering her… something she is afraid to say… "You'd better not go anywhere…" her mouth touches mine and I lose all traces of the chill that I was carrying with me. She is my life this woman, the very air I breathe. I… I couldn't live without her.

Diana

He disappears, knowing once again before I do that someone's coming. "Diana? Are you all right?" drat it all! I have been bending over backwards to avoid that man! "…Yes, I'm here Jonathan." He stops outside the door. "Good, good. I'm checking all the dressing rooms to make sure all's well. Do you need anything?" I can picture him leaning against the wood, his ear to the grain. "…No, thank you Jonathan, but I'm fine, really." A sigh. "…Well, may I come in for a moment regardless? I promise, I won't take too much of your time."

With no other option I get up and move to open the door. It hits, rising in the back of my throat but I suppress it. Until I have a lavatory at my disposal I will not! Not in my dressing room! "Diana? Are you sure you're all right?" I open the door. "Yes, so sorry Jonathan, Something's not agreeing with me. That's all." His eyes narrow, "that's a filthy lie Diana, unless something hasn't been agreeing with you since you came back from holiday. What is it? Do you need a doctor?"

"How… how did you know how long this has been…"

"I heard a stagehand worrying, bad luck, he thought."

"I don't understand…"

The chorus has been fretting over you, and Giry has been keeping closer watch."

Had I given it away? No! I had been so careful! "Diana, let me help you. Please… I want to." His eyes hold mine; his hands reach out and brush my hair from my cheeks. "…sir, I mush ask you to leave… please leave, if you would assist me-"

"I would do more than assist you, but not a word, never a word!"

"Sir… please, your fright-"

"Your looks, your laughs, you're haunting me!"

"Stop! Please monsieur!"

"…Forgive me, I didn't want to frighten you. I'll go." He turned, his eyes dark, angry, and then he was gone.

"Alright everyone! Please remain calm! We will gain nothing from hysterics!" Most of the chorus and cast understood this logic, but that hardly matters when people are in a panic! Peter shot Giry a helpless glance and ran after the stagehands. "Hey! Calm down people!"

"Madam Giry! Peter! What happened here!" Kirsty pushed her way through the frightened crowd to the stage where Giry stood. The ballet mistress sighed, "Oh you know, just another ghost sighting." Slowly but surely, the vast theater emptied as frightened members of cast and crew retreated to their rooms. "Well, that went beautifully… what possesses that man!" Kirsty smiled at Giry's minor outburst, knowing well how rare an occurrence it was for the older woman to loose her composure. "Will he ever learn?" Giry shook her head no, a small smile at the corner of her mouth. "Never! Not until the end of the world, or the end of himself, whichever comes first!" Kirsty grinned, then sombered. "Was anyone hurt?"

"No, not this time… but our manager is in serious danger, and so are our former managers. Kirsty blinked, a puzzled frown seeping into her mouth. "Andrea and Firmin? What have they done now! They aren't even in the building anymore!" Giry sighed and sat down, motioning for the young dancer to do the same. "Well, they were here today. In fact… they're probably still in the building right now." The ballet mistress froze suddenly, her attention focusing on the door. Footsteps were descending slowly, loudly, down the stairs outside. Both waited until the sound was no longer audible, before daring to breathe. Giry wiped her face with her handkerchief and looked back at her companion. "It seems that they sold the opera house to the Count so that he could hunt here at his leisure." Kirsty's confusion was as plain to the naked eye as an elephant on the stage. Giry sighed, "I'm not talking about wild game Kirsty…"

The confusion morphed into a look of shocked understanding. "Lord above… the man is truly possessed…" Giry nodded, the worry in her eyes well hidden from the child at her feet. "It's ironic; the two of them have that much In common." Without another word the two separated, Giry remaining behind on the stage. The dim lights seemed to be warning her, offering one last chance to flee before this Atlantis they had all constructed over all these years came crashing down around them. One more chance, just one...

Inside, she smiled. No longer was she young enough to run away. Too much of her had already joined with this building, she would not abandon this ship, she would rather go down with it. Her eyes trailed about the room, "Past the point of no return, the final threshold, who in this game will win, and who will burn?"

"What do you want us to do monsieur? We don't even know what has transpired there since the night we sold you the accursed place!" Firmin nodded in agreement with his partner, and took another deep drink from the wine glass. Both were keeping carefully out of reach behind the desk. They didn't want to let lose the Anger below the surface. He had left them perturbed but calm, and had returned in barely masked frustration. "Beyond the obvious suggestions we are, I fear, of no help to you." Both were met with Jonathan's piercing glare. Andrea shrugged it of and returned to his brandy, Firmin, however, began to sweat. "I no longer even care how it is done! Just as long as I see him dead!" The glass flew from his hand and shattered on the hearth "There are simply too many places in this cursed building for him to hide!"

Andrea cleared his throat, "We can tell you're frustrated monsieur, we also tried several times to win with the Phantom, and a lot of good it did us!" Once again, Firmin simply nodded, his eyes however, remained on the shattered glass. For a moment, a calm glazed its way over the count's eyes. However, it was short lived. "Mark my words, gentlemen, I will find him out." His eyes took on an almost demonic glow. "Then when I settle my score with him… well, I'm not commonly a violent man." His attention once more shifted, the wood armrests of his chair were punished by his fierce, clenching grip. "The problem is bringing him out into the open, there must be some way… …"

Firmin coughed lightly, desperate to change the subject. "Well, what else has been happening? Why the new carpet?" Jonathan grinned, suddenly much calmer. "The strangest thing really! One of the stagehands broke the valve that pumps up the lakes water, and it started gushing out into the theater! It almost got out of hand, we could have put several more rows underwater." Andrea smiled, "Well, that also explains the new seats." Firmin grinned suddenly, looking over at his old partner. "Must have cost a pretty penny to fix." Andrea nodded, then paled. "Yes… a… a great deal of money…" Both Jonathan and Firmin failed to mask their amusement at the extent of Andrea's stinginess.

"Good God man! Do you ever think about anything but money!" Andrea shot him an indignant look, but was, somehow, unable to find an answer to defend himself. "I think about other things…" His companions smiled indulgingly, but they continued to have minor laughter spasms all throughout the remainder of the evening.

Erik

In the shadow of the clock on the mantle, which ticked a cheerful ten, Diana sat. Her eyes intently following the crackling flames, as they preformed their leaping dance in the roaring hearth. Beside her, I reclined on the living room sofa, my puzzled thoughts seeming out of place in the peaceful scene. I raise an eyebrow behind my mask, what is that woman doing? I would to ask her… but every time I try I can't form the words to say. There's something different about her, but what is it?" "…damn." She looks up at me, "Erik? Is something wrong?" I can't help but smile. "Yes Diana, there is something wrong. I'm tongue tied."

For a moment we both laughed, her laugh has always put me at ease before. Not tonight, tonight it only makes me more nervous. "Diana?" She sits down beside me, curling up in the blanket. "Yes Erik?"

"Is there… well I trust that you would tell… what I mean is, Damn…"

Now she's got my confused look, what an interesting mess. "Were you perhaps, wondering if I was… different?"  
"That's it exactly! So what is it? Is it a new Perfume? What?" She's got that smile again… "I was waiting till I was sure, and I also wanted to surprise you, but you'll know soon anyway. Erik…"

She takes my hand, funny, my hands have always seemed small and frail, but against hers they seem stronger. Her other hand joins the first, and both move my hand until it rests at her waist. "Erik… do you see what I'm trying to tell you?"

Suddenly, I do. I understand it all. How could I have been so… I didn't think it was possible. "Diana… are you… are we… … I, I'm going to be a father?" What could I say? I'm going to be a father… me… her arms have never been more inviting. I'm going to be a father. "Are you happy?" those arms around me, angel arms. "Yes, I am happy… Diana…" her eyes hold mine, I fell in love with those eyes before I even knew her. She pulls me down beside her. "I love you Erik, and your child will love you." Her lips met mine, dear God… I'm kissing my wife, my wife, which would have been enough. And now…she's giving me the ultimate gift, our child. My child, my... What did I ever do to deserve this? I'm going to be a father. "You are my life Diana… I love you so much, so very much."

The fire soon went out in the great hearth, but the lovers remained warm, wrapped tightly around each other, their gentle breaths the only sound in the stillness. And in that peace so deep, Erik never thought about the one trait he would loath to pass on, ...his face.


	19. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

The Persian watched, in silent horror, as his living room was turned inside out by the four women inside it. From the doorway, the other men also watched in silent fear. Fear that they would be asked to help in this strange and pointless ritual. "You do realize, ladies, that the moment you leave, I intend to return my furniture to the way it was before?" Kirsty shook her head and sighed, "Did it ever occur to you that when we're done, you might just like it?" Meg passed by with her mother and the coffee table. "You never know monsieur, and Kirsty, don't waste your time arguing with him. Men are men."

Raoul watched the scene with a smile, he had also in the past had his home rearranged. But all this for a one night meeting? His eyes met Erik's and both chuckled. Meg looked indignantly in their direction, "And what is so funny?" Neither one of them answered her. "Erik! Would you help me with this… Daroga, what do you call this thing?" Erik shot his friend a helpless look, and went to help his wife with the strange footstool. "It's a footrest Diana, a very long footrest for… I believe the entire couch." She raised an eyebrow. "Daroga… I hate to say it, but your taste in furniture is, well, less than ideal." Everyone except Daroga chuckled lightly. For his part Daroga was trying not to strangle them all. "Well! See if I ever offer to host one of our meetings at my residence again!"

The lights inside the windows of the Persian's house were dim, for night had long since fallen. A somewhat amused specter and a distraught Daroga attempted in the late hours to set the room to rights. "I should never have let those… look at this mess!" Erik chuckled and put his shoulder against the couch. "Well, it certainly could have been worse… I think." Another sharp glance from his companion forced the ghost to recoil, before a chuckle began to form in both their throats. "At least they were content to only throw my living room into chaos, I shudder to think of what they could have done to my study!" He winced slightly at the way their redecoration efforts were turning out. "But I stand by what I said, never again." Erik smiled, "I would offer my residence, but I don't believe my living rooms large enough." Daroga shrugged and pushed the couch into the wall. Plaster cracked, and both stared, "…Erik, can you fix this?"

"Daroga, do I look like a carpenter? I… yes, I'll fix it. Don't look at me that way! I hate that look! I said I'd fix it!" Daroga smiled and moved on to the chair. He, for one, loved that look. Erik stood still, feathers still ruffled, until he gave an aggravated sigh and reached for the footstool. "…Daroga, I have something to tell you. You understand, of course, that I swear you to secrecy." When Daroga failed to respond, Erik continued without pause. "Diana and I, well… we have been considering an early retirement." His friend's stunned expression said everything, confusion, concern, mild relief… "If I may ask, what brought about this change in plans?" Erik sighed, "Oh, quite a few things actually… however if we do not bow out now, things could (grow) to be a bit awkward." Once again Daroga was caught of guard; he turned from the chair he was moving to stare. "I'm sensing some word play in our conversation, what are you telling me?" Erik took a breath, before he could respond a gentle touch on his shoulder alerted him of Diana's presence. "Daroga, we have something to tell you."

Peter

It was silent in the office, Jonathan stood still, eyes wide, disbelieving. Across from him Peter sat with his head bowed, his eyes shut as if expecting a blow to fall. Silence, a log splintered on the hearth. "She has… what? You let her, no, no you didn't. How long were you going to..? Why didn't you tell, Damn it Peter!" His fist hit the desk. "A murderer! You let your sister run away with a murderer! The same murderer you told me killed that stagehand! How could you? Have you no spine? No shame! What have you done! What have you done Peter?"

"Enough John! You'll bring the whole building running!"

"So be it! I have nothing to be ashamed of! It's you who carries the taint! The madness, madness!"

"John! Enough! I confessed, what more do you want! I didn't want this! I didn't want this for her but she did! She wanted him John!"

"…she wanted it…" Across from him Jonathan paced with a distraught look, silent but fuming. "Gods Peter why? Why you? Why this…" The feeling of betrayal deepened, (How could one man, let alone a man as careful as I am, Get into this much trouble? Could my loyalties be more torn? He was my closest friend… he is, still, my friend.) "Why Peter? I trusted you! You… you, I don't know what to say. What can I say?" (Why can't things be the way they were? Oh yes, I remember, things were never what they seemed to be, not from the moment we entered this opera house. Diana… will you forgive me? I could not lie forever…)

Jonathan paused his pacing to look at me, hurt in his eyes… I have never felt so pathetic, so low… "Tell me why Peter! I trusted you! She trusted you! Her brother, whose thought ought to have been for her safety, her life and health, does that mean so little to you?" I sighed, his words sting like hornets. "She loves him John. She loves him… despite everything. How could I have done anything but support her? She's my sister, Christ's sake I know what he is. So does she. But there's something that made me feel… that he would never hurt her. God, I wanted to tell you John, I wanted to." His back is to me, his fists clenching the mantel. "I, I hate him Peter… everything that was good in my life he has contaminated, destroyed.

Do you know, how my sister died? Shall I tell you?" His tone grew empty, as if repeating something he had become so numb to that it had lost its meaning. "She went mad Peter, after that night. She didn't sleep, she didn't eat… she kept calling to mother, who was dead. She called, and called, and called, with a voice like an infants, and eyes like a dead fish. She was committed; it was too dangerous to have her in the house. I kept coming home and finding our chandeliers had been cut down. She did that, you know. And then she would sit… and speak to the glass… and call, mother? Are you under there mother?" For a moment It was too terrible, I closed my eyes and shuddered, the imagine he had planted was haunting. "…my sister was eighteen when she died. She never said a word, not another word till she cut herself open with a shard of window glass, and then," he turned to me. "…her last word was mother."

I saw something wake up in his eyes, like a snake raising its head to strike, his voice grew colder, his face savage. "My sister, my mother, he has contaminated you, he has touched your sister, how long Peter? How long till the madness takes her to? He knew, he knew I wanted her! That's why he took her! He knew!" He laughed, laughed at nothing, he massacred the word laugh with that sound, it was more like screaming. "He knew Peter! He knew it! Just wait! Wait till it happens to her!"

"Lord John, stop, stop it!"

"I could have saved her! I could have!"

"You talk like you wanted to marry her!"

… regretted those words as soon as they left my mouth, for John had stopped, but now he was gasping like a fish out of water. His eyes shut; he leaned as if for support against the wall. "Did it ever occur to you Peter… that maybe I did?" My heart stopped, "How long?" His smile unnerved me. "From the moment that I saw her, the first word she spoke… the first time she sang… I loved her." A wave of anger crashing over me, my entire form shaking with my attempts to control it. "…Why didn't you just tell her!" His eyes narrowed dangerously, "I wanted to! I tried! I did all but fall on my knees and beg! And if I thought that would have helped I'd have done so! She buffeted away the courtship I wanted to offer! I waited out of respect for her!" Once again an uneasy silence settled between us, I reached out to him. If we can talk like friends again… maybe he can put this entire horrible mess behind us. He's mad himself, poor devil. What had happened to him was enough to do it. Part of me was crying still. But another part had reached out to my sister, remembered the wedding, the party, and that she had been the lamb who held the lion's jaws. He could not hurt her, he would not hurt her. I have to believe that, if not… I cannot bear the thought… Diana talking to glass…

Something pulled me back from my thoughts, the hair on my neck was up, something was off in here, something was twisted. Jonathan had moved closer, he was almost on top of me, and his eyes… malice is too kind a word for what I saw there. "Peter." I shuddered; the emptiness was back in his voice. "How did this marriage take place, was there a priest? Witnesses?" I struggled to put up a confused expression, "Why, why are you asking these questions? Everything was in order, The only thing missing wa…"

I didn't have a chance to brace myself, he was on me in an instant. "What was missing?" For a second, I could only gape at him, did he know his hands were around my throat? I couldn't breath! Did he hear me gasping? Feel me struggling? His fingers tightened, my eyes were clouding and I tried to kick out at him. "Peter… don't ignore me, what was missing, hmmm?"

…no air… can't… breathe…

Pain! I hit something hard, (the mantle it must have been the mantle), my back hit the ground and I coughed, retched, sucked in air. I couldn't feel my throat, it must already be bruising. Where had this side of him been hiding! Something blunt caught me in the side, "Answer me Peter… your starting to try my patience." Once again on my throat, how could he be this strong! He dragged me over, and my eyes grew wide when I felt the first flame licked my fingers. "John! Augh stop! Stop it! Let goaaaagghhh!"

"…That's not what I wanted to hear Peter, let's try again. What, was, missing?"

I could feel my skin burning! Smell the flesh, "… A last name (Gasp!) On the marriage papers! He didn't write down his last name!"

As quickly as it had happened it was over, his hands were at his sides and I was pulling myself away from the flames, cradling my burnt hand to my chest. "…Are you sure of this?" In my stunned state I could only nod, terrified of the repercussions. John nodded, and settled into the chair across from me. His fingers gently caressing the armrests. "…So the ghost failed to produce his own name… and that means this so called wedding was not official, incomplete." His voice regained its texture, deepened, but his eyes remained cold.

"Which you know, Peter, makes your sister an unmarried woman."


	20. Chapter Seventeen

**Chapter Seventeen**

If the weather was a good way to predict the events of a morning in Paris, then today should have turned out in a very different way.

From the moment Diana had woken, there had been a feeling of peace in the air. She moved gently, not wanting to wake the man beside her. It had been a late night for Erik, he had claimed it was nothing but business, but had returned in a sad state. Almost looking like he had encountered a mob in the middle of a hurricane! Things, it seemed, had not gone well since the meeting at the Persian's house the week prior. While he had removed his soaking clothes, he commented on the horrible storm outside. It was safe to assume that it was not raining inside the opera house, one must hope, and the pipe was still in working order. So that meant that either his business had been outside the building or, he had fallen into the lake. She smiled lightly, trying to picture her husband swimming around in his full opera clothes. (You know, it figures, he's the only man I can imagine pulling that off…)

No, his business must have been outside. She sighed in annoyance. It was hard enough to get out of bed without waking him, but now with his arm draped over her? There was simply no way to do it! His chuckling alerted her that she was not the only one up. "Erik! Let me up! I need to eat breakfast, not to mention get dressed and go up for rehearsals!" He rolled over and smiled, half tender, half playful, and some percent above the rest possessive. Lazily he wrapped his other arm around her. "Perhaps I want you to stay in bed with me today?" she laughed and pushed against his chest. "Somehow I don't think that will work out with my schedule Erik, sorry." He refused to release her for a moment, his eyes glowing amber about an inch away from hers. "…but I still don't want to let you up."

"Erik! I'll loose my job, or Giry will kill me, and both are rather daunting! The schedule calls! The show must go on!" He released her with an amused snort, a spark of challenge in his eyes. "What schedule? Am I not thy lord?" she grinned and sat up so she could look down at him. "Well if that is true, than am I not thy lady?"

He moaned in mock annoyance before pulling her back to his level and claiming her mouth as his own. When he finally released her his eyes were darker, more possessive. Time to go now, or be delayed for no less than an hour… "You're going to make me late Erik! And Giry will skin me alive if I'm late, that could be bad! You don't want that, do you?" He smiled, "Oh now, she will, will she? Well, perhaps I need to speak to our dear ballet mistress." Diana laughed and stood as he finally released his grip, moving resolutely to the closet. "Chances are rehearsals may be short, I might be able to make it back for lunch." Erik nodded, then winced. "…On the subject of lunch… is there anything in particular that you want? Your appetites of recent have been…" he stopped to struggle for polite wording, "…Interesting?"

Diana's expression, the perfect blend of amusement, pity, and exasperation, she sighed and contemplated whether to wear a corset or not. "My appetite appalls you? I see nothing wrong with eating chocolate with cabbage, and don't tell me that chicken broth and sauerkraut isn't a good meal!" Despite his efforts a rich chuckle was escaping his lips, earning him an indignant look from his spouse. "Well, the soup and sauerkraut was disturbingly good, but you have come up with some truly eccentric dishes of recent, what was that one… you know, the one in which you put… the trout was salted with caramel…" Diana shook her head and sighed, "I recall you liked that one as well…have you been lying to me to humor me Erik?" his body language said everything. Diana smiled, he would never say it, he didn't want to upset her. Lord knows, he was probably frightened of the notorious mood swings.

"I'll be back as soon as I can, but Erik?" He raised an eyebrow. "Yes?" She sighed, "When I get back, I want to know what's been bothering you, agreed?" his eyes turned sharp, almost angry. "…if that is what you wish." He smiled, to reassure her, but it was too late. She knew him to well. "Erik, whatever it is, it will be fine. Tell me when I get back." And with some hesitance, she left.

Erik

(She is gone. What did she see? Damn it all!) I rise from the blankets that no longer hold her warmth. (It's not that I haven't wanted to tell her… but stress, I read somewhere that stress is to be avoided. Still… with all that's been happening…) "I'll tell her, when she gets back."

The Persian 

(He was right, I should have believed him, but this was certainly not the first time gypsies had come through town!) I move silently, watching this group with interest. (Still, his assumptions seem far fetched, but he claimed to have been tracking them for days now…he would know if he had seen…) it seemed silly, spying on gypsies. And normally I wouldn't, but Erik's fear had become my own. Since last week's end things had begun to turn twisted at the Opera Popular. Diana's brother had given her quite a scare, running into her like that…

Someone had assaulted him, scared him so deeply that the man had been unable to remain, he was lodging outside the opera now, and it seemed uncertain when he would return. The manager had been most concerned, he had sent a doctor when he heard of Peter's injuries, and had written him. Apparently, Peter had not responded. He did, however, keep up with his sister, and had written her frequently that he was well and getting better, that he would return soon. But he had written the Ghost also, and though Erik would not say what had been printed, his guard had doubled after that note.

A horse nickered, someone calmed it, (He was right after all, five of them.) five, five Persians like myself, five like myself from the court of Persia, five who, like myself, had served the Sultan. Five, Persian, trackers. (How did the Count get in contact with five of them? How did he trace Erik back so far?) Money is a powerful tool, and when waved properly can produce quite impressive results. Still, the way this man operated… he's efficient. Far too efficient. Hidden I listened to them speak amongst themselves. My eyes narrowed, (…And they are going to the Opera, this… this will not go over we-) The blow was sound, as my eyes rolled back it hit me. Why didn't I realize I could only see four?

Diana

The rehearsal was not going well; it was near a yearly break now. There was not a soul in the theater who wasn't dreaming about being somewhere else, with someone else. Of course, this was well known to the ballet mistress… this knowledge was probably the only thing keeping her from murdering us all. "Somehow I think this is a wasted effort… no one is even paying attention!" Madam Giry nodded and sighed, "I can't truly blame them… tis the season to be slacking… but what can I do? The manager wants this production ready before the break!" I shook my head, by then we may just know what we're doing… but ready to perform it? Not a chance. "As much as I dislike the idea… perhaps I should go speak with the manager?" Giry shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"No, it would only put you in an awkward position. We will do the best we can, if that is not good enough for him… then it is his own fault." Relieved, I nod and head back to my position on the stage. To be honest with myself I have no desire to be near that man… he's changed. He's changed since he first arrived, changed since he challenged Erik, changed since that uncomfortable episode in my dressing room. As if slowly, bit by bit he's been taking off a mask… and we haven't yet seen what's underneath… That, and he knows the side I have taken… I have no doubt that he will try to use me, to hurt Erik if he can. But how can a man, so consumed with hatred and rage, seem so gentle at times? And why, why does he still defer to me with respect? The man almost behaves as if he is courting me! Ever since last week… he has seen the wedding band! Is he blind? Even Peter sees something now…

I sigh under my breath, darn these deep thoughts! They're causing me to miss my cues! Call it woman's intuition, but I know this will not be a good rehearsal…

"Diana Grey, will you come with me to my office please?"

I whirl around startled; it is only by the grace of God that I catch myself. Mentally I congratulate my foresight in not wearing a corset today, had I had one on I would not have regained my balance. "Coming…I'm coming." I have no choice, have to pretend I don't mind this uncomfortable feeling he's giving me, he certainly doesn't notice. He offers me his arm to lean on as I come down from the stage, his grip is gentle, but secure. What is he up to? I feel my agitation growing as we climb the stairs to his office, once again he assists me… (I don't like this, something's wrong, something's very wrong…) The only pause in our smooth movements was when he unlocked the door and held it open for me.

There were fresh flowers in the vase on his desk, and the room was lit by a blazing fire on the hearth, crackling embers popping on the stone. The candles and the light from the window lit the aria. I drew near the warmth, wanting to let it sink into my bones, into my very core. It was cold in almost all of the opera house… and it was such a contrast in here. Outside it darkened, clouds starting to blot out the sun. it might rain today, maybe. I froze as his hand came to rest on my cheek.

"I cannot be sure if you know the reason I have asked you to come here." I stilled my form, don't provoke, don't take chances, something's wrong. His hand moved to my hair, running through the strands. "What is it you want Sir? I have nothing to say, but you're making me uncomfortable, and if you think for a moment tha-" his grip around my waist was as alien and unpleasant as I had imagined. His other hand closed firmly, but also gently over my mouth. A warning, I didn't know how I knew. His eyes were gentle as his hands, but my hair was rising. "Relax, I'm not trying to threaten you, will you calm down?" My fists clenched lightly, relaying a universal warning. His expression changed to surprise, than amusement. With careful, slow movements, he released me, and a sense of satisfaction and fear flooded my senses.

"I can see I overstepped my bounds a moment ago, forgive me." His expression still showed amusement, but there was also an aura of disproval about him. "If you have nothing to say to me monsieur, then I will take my leave. We are not yet finished with our rehearsal, if you need me." I walked quickly toward the door, I heard a sound from behind me, "Diana, you haven't even given me a chance to speak." Breath on my neck, slowly I turn to face him, and watch stunned as several figures stepped from the shadows. My blood freezes at the sight of them. "I have employed these trackers from Persia to help us unearth our little friend, but I can also pay them to just go on their way." He approached and I drew back, all my energy focused on studying the men behind him. "I have an offer for you, but first… you need to know this Diana. You, are a loving, compassionate, gentle and innocent woman. So I understand why you did it, really Diana, I do, and I forgive you."

He takes my hand, smiling such a benevolent smile that I start to feel ill, "You are so good, you would reach out to a monster to try to find the man, wouldn't you? Yes, don't be modest! I know you Diana." His other hand slides around my waist, pulling me closer. "So for your sake, if you wish, I will send them away, and let the monster you tried to save rest. That is quite a sacrifice for me, this you know." Monster, he said monster… "You see, that is how much I love-"

The sound of my palm against his cheek stunned him, as he drew back I struck again, "How dare you! You pig of a man, you, you see my ring! Are you blind Jonathan? Cant you see!" I could not hold back a cry as he seized my wrist, his eyes on fire. "Be still you! I have not finished speaking!" I clawed at his chest with my free hand kicking him at the same time with all my might, my terror rising, "Who are you to tell me to be still! Let me go monsieur! Let me-!"

The taste of blood in my mouth shocked me back to my senses. He loomed over me, shaking with barely controlled rage. Slowly, I brought my fingers to my lip, wincing at sting of my nails on the split. "Are you ready to listen? I will only give you this offer once." Knelling down beside me he took my face in his hands, his touch once more gentle. "Diana, you are in a great deal of danger," His finger brushed my lip, his expression becoming one of self-loathing. In his eyes was a silent apology, had I the strength I would have spit in his face. "If word of your, (encounter), with the ghost was to become public… you could be targeted for some very unseemly situations."

A burning hate started to grow in my gut, (Now you blackmail me Jonathan? Will you threaten me next?) But my expression remained blank. "I am willing to save you this public humiliation and scandal. I will protect you from him too! Save you from the fate that everyone who deals with him suffers! All you have to give me in return, is you." My eyes widened, "…What? What on earth…" his grip on my chin turned viselike, "Consent, your consent to let me share the rest of your life, to fill it with all the joys I can offer. A countess Diana, think about It, think. Consent to become my wife, I can make all this seem like a bad dream. And you are not breaking any promises! That's the beauty of it, because Diana," his cheek brushed mine, "…You aren't even married, he had no last name to put down. The entire ceremony was fine, but the contract was void. Peter told me." Peter, he's the one who hurt Peter, he hurt Peter, he tried to kill Peter! "All I ask," I feel the color draining from my face, "…is that you say yes."

"…Not even if God himself, commanded me."

His eyes became empty, and I realized too late that I had been in the eye of the storm… now it had passed. "You fail to understand what I am gambling with my dear." Jonathan turned to the leader of the small group and nodded; with a smile two of the trackers exited the room. "What are you doing Jonathan… where are they going!" A moment later they returned, carrying a box in their hands. To my horror I recognize my jewelry case, the case that I keep in Erik's home. They couldn't have found it! If they can reach the house, no! "I have only to say the word Diana and they will go back to retrieve a greater prize. The decision, is yours, will you condemn your monster to death?" What can I do… Erik please, please… please find some way to forgive me…

I can't risk your life…


	21. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter eighteen 

Kirsty

(What'm I gonna do, What'm I gonna do, What'm I gonna do! This isn't right! She would never!) "What am I going to tell him?"

"Tell whom?" Giry holds my eyes, her own are filled with something between rage and fear. "What am I going to tell him Giry? He'll go mad!" Her hand closed over my mouth. "Careful! We must be careful! YOU will tell him nothing, I will do it, no buts! I know him better, I know how far away to stand! I want you to go see Diana, make sure our manager has not hurt her. Don't question me Kirsty! Go on! Go!"

Giry

Kirsty runs in the direction of the office, her slippers slap the floor. The rest of the cast is in mixed confusion. I take my cane and whack the floor, hard.

Thank God this still works. The lot of them look my way, but all are silent. "…We are rehearsing Faust, are we not? Then we must rehearse! Not gossip!" The stage director, good man Philip, nods his agreement. Slowly the gears start moving again, the company takes back up the motions that are needed to run the theater. I lean against the wall, it's at times like these I feel my age… what will I tell him? How do I say Diana's being forced into another marriage? He will be furious, but please let it be hot furry, I can take that. Not the ice, don't give me the ice…

…what, is, this? Who are these men! "Monsieur's! This is an opera house! Not a lounge! Please take your leave!" They almost resemble The Persian mixed with a bulldog, strange men from Persia? One of them steps forward, it's hard to make out what he say's the accent is thick… "we are… employed…keep order in…protection from…we are…serving as guards."

"Why do we need guards? This isn't right!"

"We don't need yer protection either!"

"I don't like the look of them… bloody savages."

"That man's walking around without a shirt on!"

The noise overwhelmed everything; the foreigners seemed unfazed as the cast grumbled right in front of them. (So we now have Persian guards? My, how… convenient.) One of them looked my way, his eyes narrowed, I was taken slightly aback at how he loomed over me.

"You, are not dancer."

…My goodness, a genius as well. "No monsieur, I am not." His eyes narrowed further, "…you are a servant?" The nerve of this..! "No, monsieur, I am not." His eyes grew cold, "You are a what?" I take a firm grip on my cane, "I am the ballet mistress, Monsieur." His eyes squinted, as if translating, then he smiled. "Ah! I understand! You are supervisor of the dancers!" The rest of the cast is frozen, confused. "It is good! It is woman's work! Very good!" The ballet Corps is stepping about anxiously. Philip "Ahems" from the corner. "Madam Giry has been the head of the Ballet Corps for many years monsieur, so I suggest you behave yourself, as she basically runs the whole theater."

The Persians frown, the man before me looks down at me again. "…You run the theater? No, you do not. Is man's work." He leans down, "while we work here, you do not run theater. Is not your place, understood?" I will try, not to kick him so hard, that his knees pop off. The dancers gasp and turn their heads away. I must say nothing, or I will yell. "You do not understand? I make simpler, you, woman, will not, run, theater. Is better?" he grins at me, showing the insult is intentional. I do not lower my head, nor look away, but hold his gaze. "I will do my job, monsieur, it is not the place of a guard to tell the cast how to run a theater." It takes him a while to realize I've snapped back, his fists clench. "WE, in charge now. Owner has given us power, YOU are woman, YOU will obey man."

His companions called out something in Persian, and slowly, he smiled. "We have been promised, free run of theater, we sleep here. You will bring us food," his eyes turned to the choir and dancers. "And we will make use of your harem." The chorus shrieked and ran for the wings, the Persians laughed.

Meg

(What could Jonathan have done to her? She is in danger, we all are. Opera ghost, will you be able to win this fight? Can you? The opera's king lion is long past his prime…)

The passage is damp, slippery, and I nearly loose my footing as I pass under a flickering torch. (Are you even now waiting for me?) The ramp is getting steeper; my feet are sliding around on the floor. Around the corner the lake's icy shore comes into view. I have heard so many stories about this lake, and I have been part of the biggest. I remember how the viscount braved its booby trapped waters to rescue his fiancé from the theaters specter… Christine… were you as afraid then as I am now?

I can see his eyes glowing in the darkness… he did know I was coming, that's unnerving, to say the least. I hope you will appreciate this Diana, I am probably putting myself right into a noose for you! He turns as if to go. "Wait! Erik wait a moment! I need to talk to you!" Within two feet of him my candle goes out. He soon proves to me the impossible, his eyes are even creepier in total blackness.

"My dear Meg, what brings you down here at this time of day, and with such poor precautions?" The sudden flaring up of a match almost sends me into hysterics, he takes the candle from me and relights its wick. He is different from the last time I saw him, he seems to have put on a little weight, allowing him to loose the emaciated appearance. "Erik. I must tell you, Diana's in danger. She went to speak," his grip is like steel! His eyes bore through mine like fire threw a thicket. "How is she in danger! Tell me!" his grip tightens, I think I can feel my wrist breaking! "Gasp! Erik please! You're hurting me!" he released me, snarling under his breath. He will kill me if I don't continue. His gaze is murderous. I braced myself, "She went to speak with the manager, and an hour later he came out and announced they will be married, after our next production."

His eyes, there is such pain in his eyes… pain and confusion, as if he is quietly dieing inside. "I know that Diana loves you! She would never do this on her free will, there must be some way he is forcing her!" He turns away from me, trembling… no, not trembling, vibrating. His form has straitened to tightly, like a stick about to snap, his hands have become claws. Those eyes…They char the mind, they glow with hate. And I am so relieved, this is the hot anger mother spoke of, this means I am safe. He turns back to me, his voice harsh. "There's more, isn't there." It's not a question, "Yes… there is more, he has placed Persian guards in the theater, they have insulted mother already. He has left the building, and he has left you this note. I found it on his desk when I went to find Diana." the feeling in the pit of my stomach is becoming painful, warning me to run while I still can. "…let me see it." Slowly, I hand him the paper, he turns from me, opens and scans it. I see only a sentence. "…So we will be changing the opera schedule, and in place of Faust will be…"My candle goes out again, and the wafting smoke obscures his form in the dark. But I knew, somehow I knew. And his eyes met mine, and I recoiled from them. Ice, I entered ice. In a voice to shame a whisper, with not a hint of emotion, he hissed,

"…So be it."


	22. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

The light has died, no one heard its final cries. The entire of the opera house however, feels its departure… almost as if the heart of the theater has been ripped away. The cast and crew move about like zombies, their motions routine and robotic. Buried, deep inside the shells they have erected, they are crying out, screaming in fear. It is over, it is all over. The manager has sentenced them to death.

They are no longer performing Faust. Satan's opera is what they are rehearsing now, and not a soul in the building doubts that the devil will come to take his dues. They know the wrathful spirit in there midst well. He will rise like a demon from the theaters depths, to the strains of his own opera he will enter. And like a plague of long past, like the locust of Egypt, the black death, he will sweep all into the end. Those who dare oppose him will fall, in flames.

The fear does not affect the individual in its heart, Jonathan, blinded in his own ambitions and feeling of triumph cannot see the darkness rising up around him, waiting to rip him apart. And in that darkness, the Lion watches, he has waited for this score, and he won't wait much longer, just till the moment is right. The final curtain must fall… for this opera is ending. If his opera is put forth upon his stage, if that battle field is made, you can see it in his eyes, a disaster, beyond even his imagination… will occur…

_Mid summer, breaks end:_

Diana lay in the lounge of the Jonathan's city apartments, her eyes shut in pain. He looms over her, his fist still clenching at his side. "You will not return to the opera until the night of the performance! Have I made myself clear!" Her eyes, full of silent loathing, met his. "Then how am I to practice my part with the rest of the cast? I will do terribly on the stage if I cannot practice." His face lowers to be across from hers; sadly he traces the new bruise on her temple. " I wish you wouldn't provoke me Diana, you keep hurting yourself." He sits down beside her, pulling her into his arms even as she shrinks from his touch. "I could not care less if you were to go up without remembering a single line, you would still be perfect. Besides, I will not tempt you unfairly Diana, if you returned, you would want to see him, I can't be so cruel." He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "What kind of fool do you take me for Diana?"

With effort she pulls herself from him, her eyes never leaving his face. "An abusive, pig headed fool." His palm catches her sharply in the cheek and she crumbles, a few tears of pain leak free. He cries out in exasperation, and apologetically pulls her back to him. "As I stated, why the endless provoking?" His eyes were playful now, playful with a core of steel. "Now, go clean yourself up, we have dinner reservations and I will be embarrassed if we are late." His kiss was gentle, but the squeeze he gave her wrist was a warning. She waited until he had gone, listened to hear him locking the door behind him. He did. With slow steps, her wrist and head aching, she made her way into the bathroom and to the mirror; the signs of Jonathan's mad abuse stared back at her mockingly. "Would you even want anything to do with me now Erik? …you would never look at me again…

Peter cannot help me, Daroga isn't allowed on the grounds, and Raoul…" her eyes filled with tears. "Raoul say's you don't even speak my name… a month without speaking my name…" For a moment her expression glazed, he seemed to be sanding across from her, his eyes cold and accusing. "I didn't abandon you Erik!" He snarled, turning and stalking away, the silhouette of his frame blending into the shadows, "…Please don't abandon me…"

The shadows of the room faded as the lamps flickering light filled the place they had occupied. Oh but how she longed for them to return… then she could pretend… just for a little while, she could step into the shadows, and she would feel his arms around her…

Her eyes were tearing; a muffled cry filled the room. "He would have killed you Erik, he might still, and I will never see you again! Ever! I will never see you! Or hear you! Never!" she bowed her head and let the tears flow, muffling her sobs on a towel. Not too loud, a maid might tell Jonathan.

And standing alone in the darkness, the water tossing his reflection mockingly back at him, the Phantom watched his own tears fall, the two lovers… so far apart physically, were still so close…

_(I will find you Diana… be strong, I told you the world could be a cold place…)_ Her eyes, wide with wonder, stared hard at the reflection in the mirror, "Have I gone mad? Finally?" the tears blurred her vision, so that another face seemed to gaze back at her from the glass. She wiped her eyes hurriedly and paused, there, in her own eyes… his fire, his golden fire burning brightly.

_(Wait for me…)_ The same fire, the same heart, the same soul. "I will wait, even if it takes a lifetime, I'll wait for you."

The Persian

Eyes of fire, the laughter of a demon… and the screams of so many innocents… standing amongst the ruins of the Paris opera house, a dark shadow, a dark soul, waiting for the light of day to come, To bring the police, the world's attention, and another massacre. The eyes of a demon… long black wings, folding around a shaking form… "Why not die? we have no purpose worth life here!" Black wings… swallowing his soul… "I don't fear death, but I'll tell you what I do fear Daroga!" Demons laughter, wings and blackness… "I fear Damnation!"

Eyes of fire…

"Erik no! Allah will..!" My eyes flew open and I almost leapt from my bed, sweat dripping off my entire body. The candle on my bedside was flickering, still lit, though it was almost at the end of its wick. It had been a dream… "Just a terrible dream…" with a crash the door to my room burst open, The Viscount ran in with a look of worry plastered on his face. "Daroga! Are you all right? You're awake at last!" I smile lightly, moving over to show him I am all right. "I had a nightmare, that's all. I'm sorry to have woken you at this ungodly hour." The viscount sat down across from me, worry in his face. "…Daroga, do you realize the scare you gave me? I was afraid your wound was open!" A small smile playing over my face, "Should that happen, you will be informed, no fear."

He nodded, but his eyes were distant. It had shaken him to find me the way he had. Tied up behind a gypsy wagon was not my ideal way to be seen, but I digress. I was fortunate, fortunate from all I'd been told that I was even alive. The blow to my skull had healed, but it had a tendency to swell a bit if I wasn't careful. "So sorry again my friend, did I wake you?"

"Oh, you didn't wake me. I couldn't sleep, I'm too nervous." I nodded, sliding to face him in a more comfortable position. Nervous indeed, and we should be. Metaphorically we are placing our heads in the tiger's jaws. In the temper Erik was sporting I had been amazed he was even willing to speak to us. Still, I hope that once we have spoken again, he will confide in us once more. With a sigh Raoul looked toward the window. "When we meet with him, will we be able to speak with him safely?" I nodded, a hint of doubt finding its way into my mind. "He gave us his word, but we should still be careful, he isn't in a good humor. I hope the news you have from Diana is good." I winced as I saw Roul wince, "Is she all right?" He sighed, his eyes becoming clouded. "I think he's been beating her..."

My horrified expression must truly have been something, for he ran to get me a glass of water. …Beating her! She is an innocent! How dare he! If Erik hears of this there will be no holding him back… he will go and seek out the fool with blood on his mind. My dream could very easily come to pass… I took the water and swallowed it without pausing. "I have no idea what we will tell him now… that poor child…" his eyes locked with mine, "I'm afraid the bad news doesn't end there... Daroga, I have no news for him, because he already knows." I nearly drop my glass, "you said what?" he sighs. "He knows what count Emorenth has done, and he has claimed he will bring it to the attention of the entire cast." My expression seemed to frighten him again, "…He's… he's going to speak to the entire cast? In person! Has he gone mad!"


	23. Act Three, Part 2

**Act Three, Part Two**

To Gottogirl; I actually came up with the idea for this story a year ago, so the last name thing was there the whole time. (Didn't you ever wonder what his last name was? I did:) As for Jonathan, no, he doesn't. he knows that something is wrong with her, but not what. Last, this is both Luroux and musical based, I just felt more comfortable putting down Viscount instead of Count. Nice to hear from you! And I'm sorry about my spelling! I never get it all…

Moving on!

Night, Giry winced as she directed the cast and crew into the seats of the theater. (The ghost will need all his skills to pull this off…) several members of the choir had already begun to whisper. She smiled grimly, (Well, at least there was no chance of that fool manager finding out. He hasn't set foot in the theater since the announcement of Diana's marriage.)

The Persian thugs had been put in charge of the theater, what a nightmare that had been… but they had become cocky. And soon, though not soon enough, they had all mysteriously vanished. No doubt fallen prey to the ghost, and to be truthful, they were not missed. They had been running around terrorizing the cast and crew just as harshly as the ghost ever had, demanding insane and ludicrous things, and dealing harshly with refusal. Worse than the ghost really, they had done it every day. (And the ghost had certainly never entered the dancer's dressing rooms to demand bed company!) Her eyes sparkled with anger at the memory; those men had certainly not gotten what they had come for. Instead, they had received an enraged specter, and a permanent, solitary, rest.

Meg looked at her mother in fear, "What is he going to do? He cannot truly intend to speak to the entire cast!" Giry sighed, "I'm fear that's exactly what he plans to do, to an extent…" The lamps suddenly failed, tossing the entire of the theater into darkness. Most screamed and gripped those closest to them, the stagehands called out to each other, the chorus began a group prayer, for a pair of catlike eyes had appeared before them, burning with inner fire. Then, very slowly, the lights returned to half of their former glow, allowing all to see the dark form flicker past the chandelier above them. The stagehands grew still, someone made the sign of the cross, another sobbed silently. Then, for a moment, all was silent, save for the whimpering of the frightened children of the company.

"Ah… it is good to see my instructions being followed for a change. I thank you."

With the grace of a panther, silent and deadly, the ghost walked over the rafters above them. And when he spoke, the voice did not come from him, but rather every place that he was not in.

"So for the first and last time, I address you as a group."

His eyes never left them, even as he descended onto the stage. "The time has come, for all present to chose where they will place their faith. There is a war that has been fought all around you, you know it well. Now the final battle is to come," He paused, making eye contact with all present, even it seemed, those he could not see. "…I will hide nothing. I will kill the manager Jonathan, and I do believe you all know why." His eyes locked on a stagehand, "Davis! Did he not tell you that the wages for stagehands were to be raised? I believe he did, am I mistaken..?" Davis swallowed, "…he might have, yes, I think he did." The specter smiled, "He gave you his word Davis, and did he follow through?" Davis shook his head, His eyes turned another way. "Adele, he told you that you were the greatest dancer he had ever seen, that your grace was that of a dryad. …but not a day after that was said, you found that your salary had been cut, with no explanation. Yes?" She shivered, shaking to hard to reply, but her head bobbed. "…My poor flute players… who for years have put all their skill into the perfection that is this Company. The newer opera's have little to no use for you, and your years of service have been forgotten."

"Our beloved chorus! To be replaced with those trained in Italy…"

"We need only half the costume girls, let the rest go wherever..."

"We need new leadership; our stage manager is no longer what he was once…"

"…Giry, you have become expendable…"

"I will place these qualified personnel in charge of the opera in my absence, I'm sure all will go well… yes, and it all went well… didn't it."

The cast sat ridged, many were still in a rage over the incidents he had mentioned. Some had forgotten their personal troubles, many were angry for their friends and associates. A muttering followed in his words presence, he stood silent, a forbidding and imposing shadow just in sight. Allowing them to argue it amongst themselves. Giry shook her head baffled, "Of course, get them mad at someone else, and ease the way for you. It certainly fits you O.G. …" His gaze returned to the crowd, on instinct all fell still, many realizing the danger they were still in, the danger that the children were in… "So now you see, you must band together, if you are ever to regain control of your lives, you're your futures. I can no longer fight for you alone." The doors to the theater banged open, Raoul and the Persian raced inside, their expressions tense. From their seats, the cast watched the two legendary rivals lock eyes.

Raoul blinked, realizing from the position that he had placed himself into, that what he did now could influence if Erik's risk paid off. With silence, he regained his composure and walked toward the stage. The two kept eye contact, it almost burned to look at those eyes, they were bright with the glee of the danger, and dark with fear, and that sharp ice that only he carried. Raoul stood tall, looking up, The Phantom did not move, he gazed down. Finally, Raoul nodded lightly, bowing at the waist. The ghost stood tall a moment longer, then returned the gesture, a smile-hidden bellow the mask. The cast remained quiet, their minds racing. Daroga followed Raoul's example.

The specter turned to Giry, who in turn turned around and did something that surprised all. She motioned to the cast, and about twelve individuals came forward and bowed at the waist with her. Meg and Kirsty at the lead, then several dancers, two stagehands, and the orchestra conductor.

"These have already decided what side they are on, we await the others decision." The cast swayed, uncertain, fearful, these were their choices? A Phantom or a poor Manager? Yes, Jonathan had done them no favors, but had the Ghost? Were both not equally evil? To side with one, to side with neither? But the eyes held them, such eyes unmeant for anything mortal. They held, they commanded and yet coaxed, so slowly, one by one, the masses began to rise. These examples or their personal fears compelled many of the undecided. Those who trusted neither decided to deal with one, than the other. Almost all rose to show their support. "To those still seated, if I cannot receive your assistance, then I command you to stay out of the way."

A muttering of agreement filled the hall, and the last of those sitting rose. This was what they needed, poor choice or not. Something to stand behind, something to rally for. It's hard to say what any might have felt. But you know the feeling, we all do. If you have ever taken on a task that seemed too big or complicated, and you join with others to push for it, you know. It is warmth and fire, a flame that sparks from person to person until all are set ablaze. And in its heart Erik appeared more Colossus than Ghost, and more man than mortal. In the center of the group a small fight issued between two cast members, with a grunt the loser was thrown forward. Peter looked up at the looming figure before him, wincing at the accusations his former friends threw at him. "It's 'is fault! He's in league with the manager!"

"He gave his own sister to that madman!"

"Put him to the ghost's judgment!"

**"…Enough!"**

Peter watched as Erik's hand disappeared under his cloak, and emerged with a coil of rope. The entire cast fell silent. Angry cast members, that's all they were, but that's how mobs are formed, from tensions, spark, and a scapegoat. The Phantom's eyes locked with Peter's, he lay the noose down between them. "What have you done..? She is your own sister, does her happiness mean nothing to you!" Peter stepped forward, his eyes dark. "Yes, her happiness means everything to me, I was fooled, I know better now. So if you don't kill him soon Phantom, I will." There was a cheer from the cast and crew, but Peter could see the pain, in his sister's chosen ones eyes.

"…And you call me murderer… I, at least, no matter how badly I have wanted someone dead, have never cheered for it." The cast was unsure of how to respond to this, The Phantom's eyes never left Peter's face, "I never thought I would have to say this to someone, from me it is almost a mockery. Peter Grey, do not feel joy. Not over someone's death." Peter shook his head, "I have seen you kill and enjoy it! You even laughed!" The cast shuddered, but did not break, like a crowd waiting to see a hanging. Erik nodded, a small smile playing over his face. "I will not deny it; I enjoy the act of killing, because I long ago lost my respect for humanity as a whole."

The fire in those ghost eyes seemed to grow stronger. "I kill when I have to, when it is required, and more than once my temper has determined when a life was cut short." For a moment, it seemed he was moving forward, his golden eyes… now full of hate. Peter held his ground eyes alight with his own challenge. "Yet I have never forgotten! That when I die they will kill me a thousand times over in my final judgment!" Peter drew back, his eyes wide. The feeling of fear had returned with vengeance. Why was it easier to fear the man than the ghost? His eyes shot open as he felt something grip the collar of his shirt and hoist him into the air. "Never forget, that I am forever damned for my actions, my crimes against my own race, and they, for their crimes against me!"

Daroga stared in shock as the Punjab lasso held Peter in a death grip, and Erik moved closer, seemingly to go for the kill. Now the silence was replaced with screams, fear and anger plain in every face. The cast surged forward until he turned on them, "There! Do you see now? Was this not what you wanted to see? When you stood silent and watched? That is the true difference between us!" Drawing his dagger, the Phantom cut the nose free, allowing Peter to sprawl gasping at his feet. "You were willing to let it go this far! Why stop now? Why?" They were silent once more. The ghost stood his ground, towering on the stage above them all, but his voice turned softer, almost. "You all still feel in yourselves, all of you, that murder is a terrible sin, it repulses you… and yes, that's how it should be." Calmly, as if he had not just held a life to the flame, he offered Peter his hand. With caution, Peter allowed Erik to pull him to his feet.

"Now Peter, now that you know how it feels to know you will die, do you still wish it on another?" Peter shook his head, "No… now I don't think I could even wish it on Satan himself… how can you do it? You, who understand it so well…" Erik smiled grimly, and replied in a whisper almost a hiss, " I simply pretend that the person I kill was never human to begin with, I learned long ago not to care." With a deep sigh, he turned his eyes back to the group, then once more to Peters shaking form. "…But I cannot let that happen to you Peter… you can still find comfort. You aren't dead yet, you can still feel, and you must never allow yourself to change. The ones who change become the hunters, and two hunters you already know too well. Stay safe Peter, stay pure."

The silence in the theater that night was almost suffocating, instructions, written out in red ink, were given to every member of both the cast and crew, from the youngest dancer, to the oldest stagehand. All had simple instructions, wear this, and say that, move away from here when the time is right. And if all went as planned…

Well, I need not say.


	24. Chapter Twenty

Erik

I watch as Daroga approaches me, his eyes deep with worry. I step away and move past him. The pain is too deep to speak now. I will do something we will both regret, say something I cannot bare to say. (Is she alive? I know what's been done! I know what he has done! Could we not stop it? Why do the innocent always suffer? Is that justice? That she pays for my sins!) I hiss and draw further away as his hand reaches for me. (Why do the innocent suffer? She was innocent! Damn it all she's done no wrong!) His eyes seek mine, but something forces him to back away. (Why couldn't you protect her? Is it your fault? Did you let her fall!) I take a step toward him, he stumbles as if undecided whether to flee or stand.

"Erik speak to me… you promised to speak to me…" a smile on my face, I feel the change and do nothing to stop it, I need it, I need an attack that I can strike back at... I need. "Run Nadir… run…"he pulls further away, "You do not want this Erik! Don't let it go! You know better, remember the-" I lunge and he pulls away, jumping free of my reach before swinging about on the balcony, nearly teetering into the auditorium below. But he seized his footing and swung back, his fist grazing my ear. I feel the pop before I hear it. I draw back and in a fluid motion my lasso flies free, only to fall sliced in two. He stands still across from me, holing his throwing dagger at his eyes.

For a moment we are still, I feel my legs growing weak with relief. "…Thank God for you Daroga… I needed to feel it, to feel a little justice. Thank you, thank god for you…" he smiles slowly, and lowers his dagger. "…you had me frightened." I laugh, "Rightly so, I wasn't playing with you Daroga, a lesser man would be dead by now." he moves forward, on hand goes to my shoulder. "You wouldn't have killed me; you are stronger than that, listen to me Erik! If you cannot believe that, than this plan will die in its conception! You must hold yourself with all your will, or we will accomplish nothing." Conception, I feel the tremor run down my spine… "My child, has he killed it? What has he done to her Daroga… I'm going to die from this, I feel my heart clenching…"

"Oh my friend… to think the day has come…" his expression twisted, becoming dark and angry. "That we must be the heroes, it's nearly blasphemous… I know not what to tell you, she is alive, and if she lives so does your child. We will settle this, make no mistake." I close my eyes, "I have prayed, I have not prayed for years, and in my last few days I have felt agitated doing anything else, as if my prayers will spare her. I can't bear this!" His hand squeezed, steadying me, "…don't you ever watch the falcon swoop at the sun, as if to its rising he is bound? Have you ever wondered why he shrieks, as the light cycle goes round? Because within that burning light, he himself is found. She is your falcon's sun, and only for her, will you always strike true." I smile, but it is bitter, "…the world wilts without its sun…"

**Chapter Twenty**

"Diana, Diana open the door! It's madam Giry!" with a shout the door opened, Diana stared at her ballet mistress, her eyes impossibly large. "…Giry..?" Giry ran inside the room and pulled her close. "It's all well, I have you, it's all to be fine."

"Madam Giry! Thank God! How did you!" Giry shook her head, "There's no time for this now! The rest of the cast cannot hold that fool much longer, and he will realize soon that someone stole his flat key! We must grab your things and go!" Before she could even finish, Diana had dashed upstairs, returning with her things. Giry nodded and the two women raced out into the street, hailing the nearest cab. Once inside, Giry told the driver to take them to the opera popular. "Are you well?"

"I knew he would send you, I felt him with me every moment! How are the others? My brother Peter? The Persian? How is Phantom? Erik took care of her right?" Giry looked over at Diana, her eyes clouded, the start of tears falling onto her clasped hands. Diana waited, searching Giry's eyes. "…Madam Giry? What's wrong…" Giry sighed, wiping her face with a handkerchief, "Oh child, it's just to see you, I've felt so responsible for this… had I followed you to his office I might have-"At Diana's expression she straitened up. "No… madam Giry… you can't be right…you could have done nothing, I thank God you weren't there! He was insane, he's the one who attacked Peter!" Giry lowered her gaze, her eyes horrified "I knew it, but I didn't want to believe it, it's hard to hear... oh child... I wish that there was some way…" her hands shook with clenched fingers. "This… this is all Jonathans Fault Giry, please don't do this, let it go." without warning, she burst into sobs, her shoulders shaking helplessly. Diana gaped for a moment, truly stunned to silence, but she pulled Giry close. Timidly, unsure how it would be received, the old ballet mistress took Diana into her arms.

"Forgive this old fool… I'm sorry, I should, I apol… I'm just so glad to see you child!" Diana held tight, letting the burning in her eyes spill free, "…you have no idea how good it is to see you, I missed you all so much!"

Giry 

Her cries quiet a little, but so have mine, and we do not release our hold. Her hands grip mine, our fingers are locked, and even as her eyes hold mine I feel her hands tremble. (So this is what our manager does to those he claims to love… it seems the world is filled with monsters, and as far as they go, I prefer the one that lives in our opera house to the one strutting about in the upper crust. Why do monsters emerge from men? What is gained? Does it make them feel alive? Does it provide a substitute for trust and love, or is it like a drug, one that gives them pleasure, even as it eats away their insides...)

"…I …I know Jonathan won't leave me be. He promised himself that I am his." A ghost of a smile fell from to her lips. "He still refuses to acknowledge I am someone else's entirely. God, how is Erik? I never got to say goodbye! He always told me to be strong, he told me he loved me… and that he would never leave me alone… he was always so afraid that I would leave him. And I never got to say goodbye…" I squeeze her hand lightly, "Things will be alright now Diana, you'll see." She nods, obviously exhausted, her hand squeezes mine in return. She'll be alright as soon as she is with him… and he will be alright as soon as he realizes she is back. These two truly do live for each other… The sound of another cab behind ours startles us both out of our daze. With confusion, I shove my head out the window, and cannot help but let out an indignant huff. With weary curiosity, Diana does the same, only she stairs almost blankly at the sight behind us.

"That brother of yours is going to get himself killed, crazy young men! Oh the opera is full of them! Even comparing them to our ghost makes them seem mad!" Even though I am annoyed, the sight that they are in such good spirits cheers me. They pull up beside us, Peter grins, there are smiles shinning on their faces. "Diana! Sister!" She threw herself to the window. "Peter! Thank God! Are you well? You've been all right? Tell me everything!" He nodded, "As soon as I can I'll tell you everything. Gods it's good to see you, I'm never letting you out of my sight again!" I shake my head. "Would you keep your eyes on the road!" He seems stunned and steers the horses back to their place. "…Well! With all the experience I'm getting driving horses, perhaps I should join the stables! … If it's not stressing you to much Madam Giry…" he seemed to see my expression, for a sheepish grin spread across his face. I laugh shortly. "Stressing is not the word for what you people put me through! Peter, any word from Daroga?" his expression turned smug.

"Yes, and I'll quote him if you like." He cleared his throat with a flourish, meanwhile keeping both eyes on the horses. What developed appeared to be a frustrated Peter yelling at the horses… "Ephem, That dammed fool wont make up his mind! One moment he seems here, and the next I don't know where the blazes he is!" he trailed of into mumbles, blushing slightly. Then regaining voice strength, "And mark my words! I swear by Allah himself that when I find that idiot I'm going to kill him with my own two hands!" Diana blinked, for my own defense I didn't bat an eyelid. Peter lowered his head, slightly embarrassed.

"Well, to the best of my knowledge, that means that Erik played his part, and disappeared without telling the Persian." The opera loomed ahead of us, most of the cast still stood on its steps, laughing and cheering. As I had expected, they had scared the manager off, and standing in their midst, his eyes burning… "Erik!"

I swear that I had never seen her move that fast, she didn't even wait for the horses to stop! Simply flung open the door and leapt onto the side! His speed has never before startled me, I thought myself us to it. When those two saw each other… I highly doubt the god Hermes could have outpaced them, they were there, their hands locked, their eyes... how to describe the change in his eyes? They became warm, gentle, and almost soft…

"Erik… I was afraid…" his hand at the side of her face calmed her, "I told you, I would never leave you. Did you think I would break my word? his hands, they traced her jaw with tenderness of a fawn's caress… "I have to tell you, I never abandoned you… He forced me! If only I could have come sooner!" Once more the tears ran freely, they were mixed tears, tears both of joy and pain, of love… and relief. His arms pulled her to him, and her head fell right into the crook of his shoulder. By heaven and hell… the only thing I could see was they way they became one… their forms locking together perfectly, this is not just love… she is part of him…

"Are the plans for the opera tonight still the same?" The ghost, for that is what he became, released Diana gently. "Take her to her rooms, and stay with her Peter. We will all meet in the chosen place that we discussed." His eyes had changed as well, they were now dark, commanding, almost feral. "I want everyone who works in the opera house to stay within its walls. The Count will retaliate, most likely with the city's police, you will all be safer inside." Those who had been involved in the distraction removed their masks and nodded. "In a group he will not know which of you were responsible. Do not wear those again, until the signal has been given."


	25. Chapter Twenty One

**Chapter Twenty One**

Sorry about the wait! been a little buisy! but hang  
in there cause we're nerely done!

Diana 

Kirsty ran out of the building and threw her arms around me. we grabbed each other, yelling out things that a moment later neither of us remembered. Her eyes were dancing; the grin I remember so well was all over her face. "Oh Diana! I've missed you so much! I've had no one to talk to with you gone! Common, lets go inside, I'll clean you up, and you can tell me all about everything." I nodded, just to see her made me feel more like myself. I look back to see if he is still there. No, Erik is gone, so is most of the cast. I feel a slight panic, (what if he hasn't forgiven me? What if he's hurt? What is he planning? Where is he?)

"Diana!" I look at her; one of her hands has snagged mine. "Let's go inside Diana, before there is trouble out here. He did say the police might come." The opera house is chilly, but inside I feel so warm in these walls. The familiar furnishings and stairways seem to speak to me, I belong here, this is my home. We ran down the hallways, turning corners, almost trampling the stage director who, sadly, happened to be on the same stretch of hallway. What a feeling to run, I hadn't been able to run…

Then into my dressing room, Kirsty looked like this was as far as she intended to go. I was not. I needed to be home, needed to be safe.

"Diana, leave the mirror alone! You're going to break… it?" she stared into the secret passage and turned to me. "How many secrets have you been keeping from me!" I blinked, "I told you about this passage… didn't I?" Kirsty thought about it for a moment. "No I don't think so, I would have remembered one like this." Why on earth didn't I tell her about the one in my mirror? With a smile I pushed the mirror to its full length. Kirsty rose and walked over to me. "Wait, why did you open the mirror right now? Are we going down there!" I nod, her expression becomes curious. "Are we, are we going to where he lives?" she pokes her head in, and emerges back into my dressing room. "It's… its pretty dark down this passage…"

"Kirsty, don't tell me you're still afraid of the dark!" her eyes grow wide. "I never said that!" I smile lightly, her eyes remain fixed on the passage. "Then what's wrong? We will bring a lamp with us." Relief floods her face. "Ah… well, in that case!" I laugh and fetch a lamp from my dresser table. The floor is damp here in winter, spring, summer… the floor here is damp. Whenever moisture drips in from the ground these passages are slick. Several times we both end up slipping, whizzing down on our rears at crazy speeds, screaming all the way! And let me tell you, by the time we reach the lake shore we have received some truly impressive looks from those who work below the trapdoors! We were laughing so hard, I couldn't hear the horses nicker as we shot past them and into their hay. Kirsty turned to me, straw sticking from her hair. "I understand now!" she managed to gasp, "Why the stablemen put rough wool on their feat in the winter! It's so they don't break their necks like we're going to!"

I clasped my hands over my mouth to stifle the giggles, "We are not going to break our necks! But we may drown if we can't find the boat!" Once again her eyes went wide, "I've never been any farther than this… and most think this is to close for comfort!" we move further down the passage, the sound of dripping water grows louder, and for whatever reason, we have lapsed into silence. The boat in question is well hidden; it takes a longer search than usual to discover its hiding place. Kirsty seems entranced by the dark ripples as I steer us toward home, the soft sound of the pole on the lakes bottom is as soothing to my frayed nerves as incense. Home… I'm going home… we hit the opposite shore and tether the boat. "…Diana, there's nothing here. You know that, right?" I smile. "You wouldn't be the first person to say that." The block opens the small door, I press it. With subtle creaking the gate slides free and Erik's equivalent of a courtyard appears before us. I become faintly aware that Kirsty is crying out, but not in wonder, in fear? "Kirsty? What's wrong?"

She stares at the cracked gate, her face going pale. "Oh Diana… this, this is where it all happened…" I closed the wall behind us. "Where…what happened?" Her eyes meet mine. "Did anyone ever tell you the story of Christine the chorus girl?" I shook my head, "Only pieces… why does that matter?" Had I struck her I doubt she could have looked more shocked, her mouth moved, but no sound emerged. "Kirsty, are you alright! What's wrong! Tell me!" A deep breath, Kirsty took my hand and pulled me down to sit beside her. "I don't know why no one ever told you… I could have sworn that all of Paris knew…" my expression seemed to cause her to make up her mind. "Well, since no one else has told you, I will." she gets up, walked a little ways off, and starts to speak. "On the night that Don Juan Triumphant was to be preformed, the Viscount and the leading lady, Christine Daae', were planning to flee the opera and elope together. Things didn't go as planned…" Her eyes are dark, and set away from me. The way she speaks sends a chill of dread down my spine. "The Phantom joined the cast during the first act, killing the lead tenor, Piangi. The ghost killed him right on stage, behind a curtain hidden from view, no one heard Piangi cry for help, not once!"

"When it came time for Piangi to come out and sing his lines, the Ghost came out, and for a moment no one knew the difference. But only for a moment! The singer recognized the ghost immediately!" Her eyes met mine. "She continued with her lines, he followed the script, then suddenly, he started to sing a different song… rumor has it that it was the same song that Christine sang to the Viscount when they were planning to run away." In my minds eye, I could see this all happening, though the face of the woman was unknown to me. I shivered, Kirsty nodded, her face lighting with frightened excitement. "I even know the words! Something like… like…

She stopped, her eyes closing in silent horror. "I knew once, but I've forgotten. What matters is he never finished. I'm sure there was more to it… but I never got to hear it." I swallow hard, "Kirsty…why didn't he …" She shook her head, her eyes haunted in the shadows. "Because… before he could get any farther, she reached up…" her eyes pulled tightly shut, a sob dying in her throat. "She reached up… and tore of his mask!"

…My hands, are so cold, (Oh Erik… what was it like, your greatest fear… coming to pass in front of all those… what possessed you Erik! …Was it all for her?) I look up as Kirsty's shaking drew me back to reality, and it was then that I understood, I understood for the first time… "You were part of the cast then… you were there… Oh Kirsty…" If anything her shoulders shook harder, but she held up her hand to stop me, something inside compelling her to continue… "I remember… I remember it all like it happened yesterday… the entire cast and crew, the entire audience saw his face… that face… and those eyes! The police swarmed over the stage, and he grabbed her and they were gone, and they discovered Piangi's body… The company diva, La Carlotta, never recovered from seeing that… she fled back to Spain, rumor has it she's still in an asylum there."

Her eyes remain closed, as if afraid that looking will bring her back to the horror of it all, back into the story she forces out. She pulled in a breath," I didn't see this myself, but the story says Madam Giry told the Viscount where to find the Phantom, and the two confronted each other, …right where we're standing."

"Kirsty… I… I don't know what to say…" The silence in the air around us is growing stronger, the chill seems to have set in on me too, for we are both shivering now. "So now you see why I've had a hard time getting over the fact that he… he (Is) a killer Diana… and it scares me… that he can love you and act so human… while still…" I reach out and pull her to me, my eyes watering. "Kirsty… I know what you saw was horrible… but remember the other things you've seen, at my wedding, you were comfortable with him then! And he saved us from the thieves on the road!" she nods, moving forward as I pushed yet another stone, the block that reveals the door to my home. "You need to get to know him when his shield is down, I know as well as you… no, I don't. I've never seen him like that, but I believe it. He will not hurt you Kirsty, you'll see…I promise."

The fire was crackling merrily in the grate, licking hungrily over the logs and chips like a dancing leopard. The warmth filled me to the core, and I smiled with satisfaction. With careful steps, almost as if afraid I would tell her off, Kirsty's searched the room, mouth hanging agape. "Goodness Diana… this place… It almost seems like an underground treasure trove!" She seemed stunned by the plushy cushions and thick rugs of tiger fur, her eyes scanned the several glass shelves on which various bobbles rested. Erik had told me that they were keepsakes from his many journeys.

"I never asked the stories behind these things… maybe I should… he speaks so little about his past, it makes me worry…" Her eyes met mine, a mix of curiosity and caution. "You haven't asked him? Why not? If I was around him half as much as you are, and… if I wasn't still, well… nervous of him, this would be all we talked about I think." (Perhaps she's right…) the thought nagged at me, oh but I don't want to think about this right now…

"Ah, I see we have a visitor." His hand on my shoulder, I see that he is not looking at Kirsty, but at me. Worry burns deep in his eyes, turning their shade from rich amber to a tawny gold. "I wanted to be home, and I wanted Kirsty to come with me…is that all right Erik?"

Kirsty stands her ground, though she's shaking in the knees, Erik either doesn't notice, or pretends not to. He holds out his hand, gesturing to a chair. "Please sit, I do not have guests often, but by no means does that mean I lack common manners of a host." Nodding shakily, Kirsty sits, her eyes on mine. I send a reassuring glance, and draw Erik and myself down onto the couch across from her. His hand strays from my shoulder, tracing across my jaw line, the bruises over my cheek… part of me was so glad to feel his touch, part of me was cowering in shame. His inspection apparently finished, he shook his head, a curse in a foreign tongue stifled between his teeth.

"Is it bad?" I forced my head to turn to face his gaze, what is stranger? How ridged his form? Or how exasperated his expression! "…Diana, I do not believe you realize how ridiculous that comment was." Despite the almost cynical tone in his voice, his eyes are angry. "Yes, it is bad, permanent? No. Dangerous? I think not, but bad? Yes." He lifts my chin, fingers playing across swollen skin. "The damage is there, you will be sore for a while, somewhere in this opera I'm sure is a salve to bring down the swelling…" his tone became agitated, "Well with the way I stock things there ought to be… It will all heal Diana… you will not bear a mark."

A slight cough from Kirsty drew our attention, she was standing in the doorway, her expression one of slight embarrassment. "I don't mean to be abrupt, but maybe you should make sure all her other scrapes and bruises are alright?" Her expression was one of almost desperation; there is some other reason she wants to flee here… Erik nodded, seemingly understanding. "How very considerate, thank you. I hope, at a less awkward time you may drop by." She nodded softly, then turned and fled. I gave Erik a puzzled glance, in return I was taken aback when both his arms encircled me, his grip like steel. He holds me captive, caged against him so that I feel each slow breath he is taking to remain calm. His eyes meet mine, terror, there is terror in them. "He touched you, he struck you!" He gathers himself, the way I had felt before when his fears ride him hardest. "Erik, its all right, I'm here now…" He snarls, his eyes flash. "He dared to touch you! And where was I Diana? The one you believed would protect you? Where was I when he hit you! Where was I when… when he…" he buries his head in my throat, shuddering. Slowly… he grows still, and his arms become softer. Soft muffled sound, weeping… "Erik, are you ill? Tell me what hurts you, don't tell me you weep for me!" my hands seek out his face, removing the mask so I can wipe his tears, there is such a lost look in his eyes…

"Erik please! You know I can't stand to see you like this!" slowly, his eyes lose their glazed look, meeting mine with such intensity that I can hardly breath. "I thought you had died… that he had killed you, I was told…" his form shuddered. "Terrible, terrible things… I thought I had lost you forever, and now to see you, it's… as if you've come back from the dead…" His gentle fingers resume their inspection of my body, it feels so good… to be touched with tenderness, the tenderness he reserves for me. "…You are alright. physically, I don't feel any broken bones… the bruises will fade…" his hands moved up, pulling me back against him, his head above mine, breathing in the smell of my hair, tears still threatening to fall, but not in his eyes, in mine. "…Did he force you?"

I shake my head, "He never tried, I wouldn't have let him, and I would have died first!"

"Don't say that!"

His lips close over mine, hard, demanding submission and compliance, to ease his fears. We pull back eventually with regret. If only we didn't need to breathe… His hand once more moves down, laying flat against my swell. "…And, the child?"

I smiled, placing my hand over his. "Safe. Safe and well." I pull him close to me, melting my form against his. His lips on mine again, so full of tenderness… "Oh god, I've missed you Erik…"


	26. Chapter Twenty Two

  
** Chapter Twenty Two**

_Hello again! Good call on Kirsty! There's no relation at all, but not long ago I wondered if I'd done that without meaning to, cause I keep thinking Christine when I read Kirsty. But as said, no relation. She's got more in common with Meg to be honest…  
Moving on! Yay moving!_

"Madam Giry! Where are you! Hello! Is anyone there!" Peter raised an eyebrow as he stepped out of the shadows, bracing himself as Kirsty barreled into him. Both fell to the floor, and the lamp that Peter had held shattered. "Ow… that was a shock. Darn it! There goes the only lamp I own…" Peter reached out in the darkness, "Are you alright Kirsty?" her hand met his. "I…I think I'm fine… what were you thinking standing right in the way!" She pulled closer, her eyes scanned for him, knowing that he must be in front of her. "If my memory serves me, I believe I was minding my own business… doing nothing to provoke fate…" Kirsty sighed, raising her eyes to the heavens.

"Well I was trying to find madam Giry, but instead it seems I ran into you." Her eyes continued to search in the darkness, a sigh escaped her slumped form. "Peter… after tomorrow night… things will never be the same, and…" Peter's hand closed tightly around hers. "Are you afraid of what tomorrow will bring?" her eyes closed and she shuddered. "I'm terrified Peter, I thought Diana could tame the demon in Erik, I see now that I was wrong. I've been living a lie for so long… and tomorrow night, the world will end for all of us all over again!" even in the cover of darkness she turned from him, desperate to hide her tears.

"Kirsty… his plan will never work… not if he plans to run with Diana, he doesn't have time to kill Jonathan! I can't believe he's serious; it must be some kind of double play. It seems he's famous for those!" A small smile played over Peters face. His expression changed at the sound of footsteps coming down the passage. Both froze, watching with wide eyes as a small glow appeared at the bend in the walls. Erik held their gaze for a moment, golden eyes catching the flickering light of the lantern he carried. Silently he crossed the distance between their forms, bending over to lift Kirsty's chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "We are all living lies Kirsty. That is the heart of the theater, the silence into which those lies are poured." Her mouth opened in protest, only to be gently covered by the cup of his gloved hand. "You need not stay, your role in tomorrows play is a small one. You can be honest to yourself and run as far from here as your legs can take you, telling yourself, that you are a coward….

Or, you can live the lie for one, more, night. And tell yourself you are brave, and draw your strength from that which is the heart of us all." He removed his hand, placing the lantern on the ground before them. Silently he turned to leave, pausing at the turn in the passage to look over his shoulder. "We will all honor whatever decision you make, and we, will always be ready for your return, should you chose to leave. Some things last forever, one of these, is the theater of lies." A small, grim smile stole over the Phantom's features, and he was gone.

As the sun set the next evening, the patrons of the Paris opera took their seats, the critics filling in the back rows behind them. The upper class took to the balconies, but this night there was no small talk in the hallways or on the great staircase, and the theater was as quiet as a tomb. Behind the scenes Diana watched from the safety of her lovers embrace as the cast took to their places, she broke free when Meg passed by, pulling the older woman into her arms with a sob. Meg held her tightly, whispering good wishes before releasing her and running to her place. Peter and Daroga worked with the set and crew preparing the stage. Up on the grand Tier, Raoul kept his eyes open to judge what precautions Jonathan was taking, carefully counting the numbers of the police force inside the theater.

Two ushers served as the link between Raoul and Daroga, relaying the information. The lighting crew moved silently, sneaking up behind the officers and startling them into giving chase, leading them to where the stable hands and boiler room workers waited, below the trapdoors. In the audience, members of makeup crew dispersed themselves, taking seats at the locations they had been told to sit at. Out at the theaters entrance the rat catcher and several ballet dances arranged a makeshift barricade to hold of any outside help, all wearing masks.

A signal was given; the officers were safely out of the action zone. Step 2 was free. The doors to the exits in the theater were closed, and the orchestra began it's tuning, the last sets were put in place, the stage crew spread out, moving above the audience just out of sight in the rafters. The light crew regrouped, most going to their normal places of action, the remainder joining the ushers as door guards and sitting in reserved seats. With a haunted looks, Kirsty and Peter handed out the officers muskets to the cast on the stage. Quickly the weapons vanished under the men's costumes. Meg eyed one with distaste as she hid it within the folds of her skirt, passing another to Giry who took it and slid it silently into her dress.

Another signal, step two was completed. Erik held Diana against him with demons possessiveness in his eyes, slowly; he released her into Peter's care, then vanished into the wings. The stable hands led seven of the theaters horses out around the theaters exterior; they were there for the slim chance that the manager got past everyone else. "Peter… this is wrong, so wrong… I want him gone from here, but to murder…" Peter's haunted eyes met hers. "Whether it is or isn't, it's too late to stop it. I want to stop it, to let the police take him… at one point, he was my friend. Still I cannot believe this will play as Erik said it will! And at the same time I hope it does! I hate him! For what he did to you, I want him dead!" The two looked over at Kirsty, who sat shaking in the corner, "We will have blood on our hands… all of us…forever…"

…Daroga leaned against the wall, eyes shut. "Can I let this happen… can I justify another stain? Another death, I don't know that answer Allah, only that I must stay near him… or he will have no guide… _Oh I helped him in my little ways,  
__I tried to be a friend.  
__And though he may deny it all…  
__He knows it in the end,  
__That my heart has never faltered,  
__Nor my will ever bend,  
__No…"_

A cry from the stage, the last plate was placed on the table, the last curtain ready to be pulled. The cast shuddered and moaned, but braced themselves for the storm that must come. Somewhere in their midst the golden eyes flickered_. "He has stood a lonely fortress high,_

_With walls I could not breach,  
__And even when his spirit died,  
__His heart I could not reach,  
__But he never lost his passion…  
__And I never lost my speech,  
__To let him know…_

_No,_

_That one cannot clip the falcon,  
__When his wings begin to grow,  
_…_And you cannot close yourself to what you learn, you need to know…  
__That the greatest gift of life…is letting go…"_

The crowd grew still, the wealthy and less so clung to their seats, the theater held none of its usual gaiety. It might never have that again… _"In my youth I found a brilliant man,  
__With Anger on his chest.  
__So I helped him in his paths, till he was stronger than the rest.  
__But he was like a lion, and roared and scratched my breast  
__Till I let him go…_

_And then as he sprang away from me, and I first heard his song,  
__Part of me was cursing that I'd helped him grow so strong!  
__And I feared he would grow lonely… for I knew his road was long…_

_But even so…_

…_I could not clip the falcon, when his wings began to grow,  
__And will not close his heart to what it feel's and needs to know…  
__That the hardest part of life… is letting go."_

The bang as the doors of the theater slammed shut for the final time, the lights dimmed…

"…_Like a fire in a forest, his life has burned a cost,  
_…_now just when he has found himself, is he fated, …to be lost?"_

The stage was still, the cast look to him to give the next signal. He is frozen. A hand reaches out to his shoulder… he turns. Giry's eyes are dim in this light, but they hold the shine of determination.

Giry: _"…And it's only in an opera that the plot can have no end."  
_Daroga: _"And only in the music is our fate a lasting friend…"  
_Giry: _"We feel it in the moments, before the show must end,"  
_All:_ "And we know…  
__We cannot close the curtains, on the last act of the show,  
__And we cannot stop the end to what we knew must come and go…"  
_Giry: _"…Yes, the hardest part of life…"  
_Daroga: _"…And the fullest part of life…"_

Both: _"And the truest part of life…"_

… … …

Erik: "…Is the letting go."

Theme for song taken from Children of Eden's "Letting Go."


	27. Chapter Twenty Three

**Chapter Twenty-three**

"Well, we did warn him… does this seem familiar to you?" Firmin sighed, his eyes sweeping over the empty stage in a mix of recollection and fear. "Yes, sadly it does, but we didn't charge into things in the way he is… we knew better than that, didn't we?" Andre shrugged helplessly, pulling from his pocket a kerchief to wipe his brow. Across from them in box five on the opposite tier, Jonathan sat in brooding silence. "He's a crazed man Firmin, have you heard the rumors of the supervision he hired during his engagement arrangements?" Firman nodded in silent agreement, "Not that this is going to surprise you, but once again all this fuss is over a girl!" behind them a lone figure entered the box, swiftly drawing the curtains shut. Out went the light.

"Oh damn it all! Why did you close the curtains? The performance is going to start soon!" both men looked at each other in the sudden realization that neither at present had access to the curtains.

"…That, "Girl", is my wife. Hello, old fools."

At the signal, Giry walked out onto the stage, her demeanor poised. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I am sorry to inform you that, due to recent complications, some of the roles have been handed to their understudies. The female lead will be played by Meg Giry." In his seat Jonathan buried his nails in the fabric of his chair. "Also, allow me to assure you all that the role of Don Juan will be played by our tenor, signore Perongine, and not any unexpected guests." The audience chuckled good naturedly, Giry bowed and vanished from the stage without so much as a thank you.

The lights dimmed, the curtain opened, and the first act began. Raoul entered the box Andre and Firmin were sitting in; both men's expressions were frozen with fear. Erik rose and walked past the viscount with a small nod. "Dear God… Andre, its happening again… how can you let this happen again? Monsieur Viscount?" Raoul took the seat beside them, his face a mask to cover his raging emotions. The audience gave an audible gasp as the actors on the stage began to move. For the sight that greeted their eyes was an eerie one, almost macabre in the dim light. Grotesquely masked figures moving in sway to music only they seemed to hear, and those in the audience who had read the playbill marveled at this unmentioned scene.

Seeing the entire cast wearing masks, Jonathan rose to his feet, the nails of his fingers digging into his palms.

Then they heard it. Present amid the haunting scene, floating through the silent room, pouring out from balconies and corners, even from the chandelier itself, that maddening laughter! The ghost's laughter, the only sound, it shook throughout the great theater, echoing all the way down to its murky depths.

Jonathan

(I… knew he would come… The fool came! No doubt thinking he's won our little game! This is the second time he has attacked me with masked aid, and I will make sure, for you, my family, that he will never haunt another soul! Tonight, the "Phantom" will draw his last breath. I will personally rip his laughter free from his throat. Hold in my hands this vermin's life… Did he think I would let him take your lives without cost? Does he even now believe I will let him further corrupt the woman I own?

Yes that was a cruel trick, adding insult to injury. To steal the trophy I had won. No, not this time phantom… not now… not yet, we all die but it will be your turn this night… I will not loose, I will not.

…And finally, I'll wipe my history clean, take the stain that your existence bled from the fabric of my life. Free my father's shame; avenge my mother's heart, my sister's death!)

"I knew you would come, I'm prepared for you Demon! I will see that you receive full payment for the crimes you've committed against me and mine." The cast continues to act oblivious to the Phantom's presence, (Oh, when this is ended, I will make them all pay… where are you monster? Yes… I see you now… there you are… come to me fool, I'm waiting…)

Raoul watched stunned, his mouth agape as Erik appeared out of a shadow and tackled the manager within his own box, a sound came from the two, inhuman and full, a roar. Violently they went for each others throats, Jonathan pulled away and drew back a hand, something shone… Erik roared again, challenging, and sprung. They met with a thud, the glimmer disappeared, it reappeared duller, and Erik's form faltered for a moment before giving a hard shove. They crashed into the boxes draw curtain, ripping it free from its tethers with a snap and clatter. Entwined within the fabric the two forms grappled for supremacy, they leaned forward, hitting the boxes railing hard before falling backwards down into the shadows, vanishing from sight. A banging and sickening thuds, they reemerged a moment later at the foot of the stairs leading to the box seats.

…Both lay still.

Sprawled on the floor between the audience and the stage, the curtained bundle did not stir. Audience members screeched and drew back, husbands stood before their wives, some approached the limp forms tied in the cloth. Making a dash for the exits, the former managers were stopped by the masked ushers. For a moment the room was caught in utter panic, and then a shot went of. The deafening crack cut through the hysteria, and all fell still… Many sat as their legs gave out, and more huddled with each other in terrified silence.

Then, shakily, one figure pulled himself free from the mangled velvet. The audience drew back as the Phantom rose to his full height, and the curtain fell away to reveal the still form lying prone on the ground.

The ghost ignored them, his eyes golden fire and feral. Those on the stage had stopped their moving. Now they watched in silence as the cloth was ripped free. Jonathan lay still, his body resting on its side. Silently the ghost bent over, placing his hand against the side of the manager's quiet throat. Before Raoul could or any of the cast could shout a warning Jonathan's hidden hand emerged, and drove something threw the curtain and into the ghost shoulder. Instantly Erik leapt back, his hand moving to cover the wound, his breath coming in soft snarls, "…You die this night Count Emorenth…"

A laugh, then another, Jonathan's head rose to meet the Phantom's burning glare, oh but there is fire In his eyes as well, a glazed look in his burning eyes! "Oh no, not me friend, never me, tonight the curtain falls on you and your opera, tonight I will take your life, Erik Dieudonne!" For a moment the fire in the Phantom's eyes died, and he drew back from the fight. "…How did you come across that name…" Once again a laugh crept from the recedes of Jonathan's throat. "Oh? I did a little digging in my family's history! You see before I was born, my father traveled all over France, and in his little "Journeys", he stopped in many small villages. One of these, was your home village, my 'friend'." A small grin eased its way over his face. "Don't you see! You fool! My father took your mother to him on the night he passed through!" The fire returned to Erik's eyes a dark sound came from the back of his throat. You're nothing more that my fathers bastard! A shame he carried with him till his death!"

"You lie! There's no proof!" Face to face they glared each other down." Isn't there? …my father was tortured by his shame; he wanted to wipe out your existence from the world, to ease his mind of anyone learning his little, "secret". So he went back to your town, and he cut your name free from the town's record book. Your papers, your name, I've seen them all." Pain, a deep pain rose in Erik's soul, pushing against walls that had never been threatened before.

"… That… that can't be true… I was told by my mother…" The Count reached down, lifting his dagger from where it had been flung. "Oh? What's wrong? Did you think it was just your face that made her loath you? Poor Bastard, what could you expect? She never wanted you! But don't worry…" his fist tightened on the weapon." I will do you this brotherly kindness, and put you out of your misery, and out of my opera house!"

Erik raised his head, and Jonathans grip slackened as the hate in his enemy's eyes pulled the strength right out of him.

"How many times… must I tell you… that this is my Opera House!" His roar tore threw the auditorium, instantly all present recoiled from the figure in there midst whose eyes were filled with hellfire. The audience cried out in there seats, but the cast that had been positioned in their midst fought to calm them. A small laugh escaped the Phantom's form, and the audience strained to hear what he said, but the only place it was audible was in Jonathan's, left, ear. "You know, I've never had the opportunity to kill my brother before?"

Panic slipped over the line of Jonathans calm, cutting through his blazing eyes. Desperately he searched the theater for a friendly face, but all that he saw staring back at him were those horrible masks… he pulled back, his eyes turned blank and empty. "What… do you think this will frighten me? You won't kill in front of this many people. It's not your style." The smile on the Phantom's face never wavered, "If you were unaware of this, that is exactly what I did the last time my Opera was preformed. Besides, in your case, I'll make an exception." Jonathan's eyes glimmered. "And you think the entire cast will let you do this!" Erik stepped back amongst the actors, all of whom raised their weapons into firing sights. Terror swept threw the audience once more, most jumped up to flee, "Dear god!"

"There going to kill each other!"

"Oh my God my God my God!"

"Don't run! Don't Run! Nothing will happen to you if you keep calm!"

"Stay calm everyone! Move to the exits! Don't Panic!"

And under her breath Giry whispered half a prayer and half a plea… "Not ice, not ice, oh please not ice…"

"Silence, all of you!"

Jonathan turned to lunge; the feel of a pistol at the side of his head froze him in mid step. Several members of the light crew seized him, pulling him to the floor, forcing him to lay there in front of Erik's form. Still, all on stage kept their pistols at the ready.

"So this is it, you're going to have them shoot me." From the folds of Erik's cape emerged the Punjab lasso. "…No. I told you Jonathan, it was to be a fight to the death. Just us now, exactly what you said you wanted. You have the chance to defend yourself against me, but I will not speak for the others… should you win, they will probably still kill you." For the first time, Jonathan looked deep into Erik's eyes, what he saw within those golden orbs… killed the last spark of spirit inside him. These eyes were no longer surprised, of angry, they weren't even enraged. Those eyes were the eyes one sees at the other side of the grave, eyes of ice, dead eyes.

"…And, if I now refuse to fight?" The Punjab lasso leapt through the air, tightening around his throat and choking of his air. The audience fled, crashing and screaming, shattering the doors until all the seats were empty.

From off the stage Diana watched with her brother beside her, pain burning in her eyes. Behind them Kirsty rocked herself back and forth. Daroga watched from above, tears running down his face, Giry prayed as she had not since she was a chorus girl herself. And in his box Raoul drew his pistol.

A gunshot shattered the air and the noose split in two, dropping Jonathan to the floor in a gasping heap. Erik's eyes narrowed, rose to meet Raoul's . "Do you intend… to try to stop me?" All stood frozen as the viscount nodded. "Erik, listen, You must not do this. Please Erik! Listen to me." Erik drew his dagger, "You have nothing to say that I wish to hear."

"Then listen to me Phantom! You must not do this thing!" Giry moved forward cautiously. "Is it worth it O.G.? Let him live with his shame!" Peter let go of his sister and tried to reach out to his brother-in-law, Erik snarled, pushing him away. "I cannot believe, after what you have shown me, that you will do this. We are family now Erik, let me help you."

"My friend, let this man live, you promised me you would not kill again! Do it for yourself! Spare him!" Daroga moved forward, placing his hand on Erik's shoulder. "…Release me Nadir. Move, aside..." Daroga stood firm.

"Erik…"

Diana moved from the wings, standing in front of him, separating him from Jonathan who still lay heaving on the floor.

"Let him live, for God's sake let him live! Look at me Erik! It doesn't matter who he is, or what he and his family have done, to you, or to me! He is human!" A smile spread on the Phantom's face, but it did not reach his eyes. "Ah, I see."

He moved over her, looking down with eyes that showed no light in them at all, and she felt herself tremble. "You call him human, to save his life… it makes no difference. I don't see him as a human, and he sees me in no better light. Stand aside." Her eyes flashed, moving forward she pulled him into her arms. "I won't let you kill him Erik. I will melt your 'ice' with my fire! You are not a monster!" She pulled him close, whispering feverishly into his ear. "You are not a dispenser of judgment! You are not, the Phantom of the Opera! You are a man, Erik Dieudonne, my husband! And I won't let you!"

With a sharp pull she took the dagger from his hand and pulled him to her swell. "…you must be the man I know, for the son I carry. Be here for him …for us, Erik." Watched his eyes, watched the warmth seep back into them, slowly, until she knew them again, and sighed as she felt him return her embrace. "And if you love me, then never scare me like this again. Erik! You're hurt!"

He winced, the fold of his cape came free revealing the gashes to Diana's eyes, they widened, then flashed as she broke away from him and glared down at Jonathan with loathing. "You… you are the monster Jonathan… you can touch me with your fist if you think I wasn't dealt me my fair share of pain! But how dare you! Raise your hand to him! I… I could never feel anything for you, but disgust." His eyes met hers, blank eyes; Peter quickly stepped between them, recognizing the face that had nearly fed him to the fire. "How… how can you say that… don't you see it was." A chuckle formed deep in his throat. "It was all for you…" Diana drew back, her eyes frightened. Behind her Erik's form seemed to waver, his hands clenched at his sides. "Leave… Leave him Diana, do what you asked of me."

Jonathan snarled low in his throat, "Pity? Who do you think you are to pity me! You disgusting worm! You are nothing! You have always been nothing! She doesn't love you for you, she loves your music! Murderer!"

Every gun in the room was aimed; Jonathan glared over from a distance with rage. Slowly, Diana crossed the space between them, Tears in three pairs of eyes, one, who knew the desperation of love so well, the other, who had never felt a hate like this before, and the last… "…I'm sorry Jonathan…"

No one stopped Jonathan as he grabbed the pistol from Meg's grasp, and none were quick enough to stop him from setting it and firing the thunderous shot

The booms echoes, the cast's screams, swirling into a

Whirlwind of color and sound before fading into the…

Darkness...


	28. Final

**Final**

Paris, the Paris Opera, 1905

"Sir? Wake up sir, we've arrived."

The Viscount-de-Chagny

My steps are slow as I exit the cab and walked up the familiar steps, into the main foyer of the old Paris Opera. I find myself marveling at the beauty around me once more, even though it has fallen into a state of decay. It could be repaired, if someone had the determination to do it… Erik would have, but that was all so long ago… whatever became of you Erik? So many years… can you still be alive? The other people in the room are all migrating towards the stage. Well, at least someone knows where to go. I follow them through the doors and to the stage where the action is taking place, some people greet me, but my focus is not on them.

Too many memories in these walls… I can see them now, ballet dancers on the stage, their skirts floating around them, I see Elephants and fire, and golden eyes… I see the gun, the cast recoil as a figure falls… and I see Peter weeping as he drops the smoking pistol to the floor… older memories to… oh Christine… would have been pleased with the way things turned out? Are they with you now Christine? Old Andre and Firmin, rest their souls, …Daroga, I think, I miss him most of all… How familiar some of these things are… Some of these things, these simple objects that are themselves mere portals to memory… yes, they all bring back memories…  
"Lot 665 then, a papier-mâché box in the shape of a barrel organ, attached, the figure of a monkey in Persian robes playing the symbols, this item! Discovered in the vaults of the theater, and still in working order, showing here. May I start at ten franks?  
"Fifteen."  
" Fifteen then? Fifteen bid,"  
"Twenty."  
"Twenty sir thank you, twenty then"  
"Twenty five."  
"Twenty five then, thank you madam,"  
"Thirty."  
"Thirty! Selling at thirty then! Thirty once, twice! Sold for thirty franks to the Viscount –de-Chagny, thank you, sir."

...And speaking of portals… Dear god. Can it be? After so many years… "A collectors piece, indeed, every detail... exactly as she said." It's a miracle you've survived the decay of everything else, but I would recognize you, even if you were no more than a wire frame… "She often spoke of you my friend, your velvet lining, and you're figuring of lead..." To think, this toy has outlived so many...

"…Will you still play, when all the rest of us... are dead..?"

Few paid any heed to the older man in their midst, turning their attention to the next item, held on a large stand, hidden under a cloth. "Lot 666 then, a chandelier in pieces! Some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera, a mystery never fully explained. We are told, ladies and gentlemen, that this is the very chandelier that figures in the famous, disaster. Our workshops have restored it, and wired parts of it with the new electric light, so that we might get a hint of how it may look when reassembled! … Perhaps we may frighten away the ghost of so many years ago, with a little illumination, gentlemen!"

...Golden eyes watched the sun disappear behind the tree line, a soft flicker danced between the leaves and played off the simple mask. A sound made the figure turn, Diana raised an eyebrow. "…were you planning to stay here all night?" He smiled. "…Perhaps I was… why, is your son in trouble again?" she laughs. "My son? My son? No, my son is not in trouble. Your son on the other hand…"

He chuckled. "Tell his older brother to take him into town with him, it will give them both a way to spend the energy of youth without casualties." She smiled, her eyes straying back down the path. "…I'll wait at home Erik, don't be too much longer." She disappeared back through the glen.

…The eyes returned to the sky, and closed silently in a wordless gesture of awe. It never failed to grab him, even after all these years, how the sunset sealed the evening. After so much darkness… so much night… a soft sound, wheels?

"…Erik, my god, you are still here! I found Peter! He told me…" The Phantom turned stunned. "…Viscount? …Raoul?" Raoul laughed, "God! Do you ever age? You haven't changed! Speak to me, it's been so long!" For a moment they held eyes, taking each other in, smiling.

"…come here you old fool, before you get your spokes caught in a branch. Come here and watch the sun set with me. We have the time."

And it's only in a story that the ending can erase.  
And allow you to go back again, if paths you would retrace,  
So the tale is always going, even if you loose your place…  
Oho…  
So go soaring with the falcon, and feel the warm winds blow,  
Or return once more to Paris and what waits for you below…  
Yes, the greatest part of life…  
And the truest thing we learn…  
Whether passion, humor or strife…  
…You can always, return…

_I give all credit for the Musical "Phantom of the Opera" Quotes and influences to Andrew Lloyd Webber. I give credit to Gaston Leroux for the influences from his book. And I give Credit to the Musical "Children of Eden" for the inspirations involving the poetry. Thank you._


End file.
